For Tribs-

A smear of red adorns the corner of Cato's mouth. His thumb rasps across day old stubble as he collects the sticky sweetness, then licks the finger clean. A tiny body sprawled before him receives a disgusted look before he shoves it from his path. I barely even touched you, he mutters in frustration. Nothing I've done so far will impress her. He sighs and strides back to the carnage. She needs a real showstopper! His hand hovers above the selection of tools, reluctantly choosing the bag of white icing. He starts reattaching the gingerbread man's severed arm.