DYSTOPIA

0.08

Another week had passed since their encounter and frankly, Clove was still dumbfounded. She had no idea why he had done what he'd done, and she also had no idea why she hadn't stopped him. No matter how many times she told Cressida, who had stumbled in on her post kiss, she didn't buy her answer and saw it as nothing more than an excuse. What Clove also couldn't comprehend, was her very own incessant reminiscence, of the encounter— After all it was only a peck on the cheek, it wasn't like they'd kissed on the lips...

Although that wouldn't be so horrible...

When it had dawned on Clove, what she'd briefly allowed herself to think, she very quickly, but silently retracted her statement. Scoffing to herself as she did so, "Get a fucking grip, Clove."

"I can't help but think that week in solitary turned you into a nutcase Clover." The voice that had become all too familiar, rang from behind her.
Clove half-heartedly turned her head to face, the large boy who'd now caught up to her, "You're either always talking to yourself, and if you're not doing that, you look uncomfortably uptight."

"I'm really not in the mood for games today Cato." Clove sighed, quickening her pace, however the more she sped up; the more Cato sped up. Clove found herself becoming very quickly irritated, especially because of the way Cato caught up to her with ease, most likely due to his elongated limbs.

"You're unsurprisingly never in the mood Clove." He retorted, with a smug smirk.

In the back of her own mind, Clove knew she should have kept walking, and ignoring Cato. She figured he'd eventually get bored and walk away, however she was unable to ignore his previous statement, that had then sunk into her mind. "And just what the hell is that meant to mean?" She half-yelled, stopping dead in her tracks, immediately folding her arms over her chest. Her sudden outburst had understandably caused her to receive a couple of shocked, and irritated looks by bypasses, while Cato wore his all too familiar smirk.

Cato also paused in his tracks, mimicking the action of her arms. "What I mean," He said with another pause, "Is that you need to relax." He said with a sly grin, Clove could tell on the look on his face, he was insinuating but what he was insinuating she hadn't quite figured out. "And I can think of a couple ways you can do that." He whispered with a hum, leaning in slightly as he did so. "I can help if you want-"

"You perverted bastard—"

"Thank you." He quipped with an even wider smirk.

"It wasn't a compliment, you animal." He whispered in frustration.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." He replied, shooting her a quick wink, as he left. Clove felt nauseas, and not because of Cato's blatantly crude comments and behaviours; Clove felt nauseas because she found they had the opposite effect, she found them...

Entertaining, enjoyable, almost.

"Hi." A voice said, disrupting her train of thought, Clove quickly spun around to find non-other than Gale Hawthorne, stood behind her.In response to his sudden appearance, Clove rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration, "I can go, if it's a bad time?" He muttered in response to her actions, with a slight crease in his eyebrows.

She sighed, very quickly acknowledging, she had been taking out her Cato frustration on the wrong individual. "No, no..." She said quickly, with another sigh. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me." She finished, casting her gaze onto the floor in embarrassment and shame. "How are you?"

"I'm alright, busy." He replied with in an absent shrug.

"For somebody who's allegedly so busy, you sure do have a lot of free time, to come and find me." She joked, with a force smile.