In the cafeteria, Dawson is pecking at the keyboard of a pretty top-of-the-line-looking notebook computer which looks better than the one I am writing on at this very moment. And, okay, I admit that I am not in high school now, nor have I been for some time, but when I was in university occasionally you'd see the odd person using what was then called a "laptop" computer in class, and everyone would hate that person and assume that he or she was a pretentious jerk, which was usually the case, and is here as well with Dawson who pays no attention to Jen as she approaches until she says hey, and even then all he says is, "How's the hangover?" like how about a hello, or how about looking at her for longer than a split second, or can't you spare the energy as you swim across LAKE SUPERIOR? Jen says, "Post-Advil, it's fine. So, what are you writing?" Dawson flicks his eyes back at her to answer, "A script." "Really, that's great," says Jen. "Yeah," says Dawson, "great, and, funded," and hands her the letter. She reads it and marvels, "Twenty-five hundred dollars? Dawson, you won. You actually won?" And I guess Dawson does have time to talk to Jen as long as they're talking about him because she actually looks at her and smugly answers, "Yeah. Yeah, I did." Jen says, "Congratulations, I am so proud of you," and smiles quite nicely and sincerely at him. Aw. "Well, thank you!" beams Dawson. "So how does it feel to be the star of an award-winning film?" and, okay, it's all well and good to crow a little when you get something like this, but take it down a notch, Dawson, because there is such a thing as modesty, and you'd do well to at least learn how to fake it. Jen says, "An honour. Although next time, I would like to request that you extend my dialogue beyond 'help' and 'aaahhh'." Dawson says, "It's a deal."