itsclovebitches:

cato-district2:

itsclovebitches:

cato-district2:

itsclovebitches:

itsclovebitches:

cato-district2:

itsclovebitches:

cato-district2:

itsclovebitches:

cato-district2:

itsclovebitches:

what’s up? you should come over sometime!

I could do that, Clove. Sure I could… ;)

*laughs* good ;)

So, what are you up to? Anything…

Cool! I’m working on the same thing except with knives…. *goes to gym to meet Cato*

As he waited for the other Distirct 2 girl to meet him, the brutish Cato carefully picked a slender spear into his hands, the pads of his fingers brushing against the wood. With a determined scowl, he raised it above his head, pushing his body weight behind his lunge. As he did, the muscles in his upper arms rippled slightly, a singular bead of sweat dripping from his forehead. His body tensed at a sudden noise. An opening of a door. Swiftly, he span round, cocking his head. “I didn’t think you’d come so soon.” A smile spreading across his face as he spoke smoothly. “Please. Join me.”

Clove smirked. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said walking towards Cato. “So how have you been?” she asked. “Busy training…” he answered. Clove looked around and saw the knives. “Can you help me with my accuracy?” she asked picking up a small knife. She pulled her arm back and released the knife. She watched the knife pierce the dummy’s heart. “You know what? If I was a tribute with you, you’d be my biggest fear,” Cato said. Clove gave him an arrogant smirk. “Why thank you. Now let’s work on you.”

His eyebrows quirked when she answered to his compliment. “Of course. The Clove I know. Able to take a compliment with ease and grace… then change the subject completely. It’s how it’s always been.” He said, plastering a smirk onto his face. Suddenly intimidated by the precision of Clove’s throw, Cato felt the overwhelming urge to prove himself. Instead of reaching for another spear, he grappled for a small knife, similar to Clove’s. His eyes narrowing in determination, he raised it by his ear, throwing the knife, the sound of the connection from the blade and the dummy ricocheting off of the walls of the gym. Fortunately, the blade impaled where the eye should be on the dummy, and Cato let out a small, incoherent sigh of relief. 

Clove applauded. “I never knew that you could throw knives… I’m impressed,” she announced. Cato blushed. “Aw you’re blushing; how cute!” Clove laughed. “I’m not blushing!” Cato screamed and picked up a sword. “Well okay then… I guess this calls for a boxing match…”

When she told him she was impressed, he impromptly nodded his head, trying to hide the heat which swiftly flooded to his cheeks. “I do not blush, Clove,” He protested, with a small shake of his head. “I am a man, and men do not blush. Besides. Knives… spears… swords… they’re relatively similar. I can induce the same amount of pain from each of them. So yes. Very similar indeed. Oh, boxing? I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. But, who am I to say no to a challenge?” He asked, a new wave of determination washing over him as his hand tightened around the shaft of his sword. “Next Hunger Games. I’m volunteering. I can win it, Clove. I really can.”