Cato

[When Cato pops up on the screen he doesn't look as...grumpy as usual. No, that's been replaced with nerves. A lot of them. Which only serve to make him actually twice as grumpy as usual. So it's all a big fat lie.

He seems to be trying to figure out exactly how to go about speaking before finally beginning very hesitantly.]

So.

[All he can think at this point is that it would just be in his best interest to close his journal now. But he keeps going... albeit hesitantly.]

Say hypothetically you wanted to do something...nice...

[He grits his teeth when he says it. Like the the mere idea of him being nice personally offends him or maybe it's just the word itself. But he can get through this question, or so he tells himself.]

...for someone, like...take them out on a date orsomething. What would be good? To do? I've tried thinking of things for her and nothing sounds right.

[It's then that he realizes he just let himself talk without editing himself and whups that is a no-go. Because he's really nervous and really unsure of himself -- both of which aren't him. So he ends the post. Only to write in a few pages later:]

how do you tell a girls dress size?