that's a very accurate summary of clarke griffin; bitter loser to the end, he got her clocked in one.
and then — for this inevitably being the second time she falls dramatically on the floor, at least it's going to be funny this time.
the bike tilts, something groans like it's going to break, and clarke's distracted enough for a moment that she misses the opportunity to properly catch herself from sliding off the seat. another half-strangled help, and maybe a brief attempt to anchor herself to his torso, but ultimately, nah. she just sorta falls sideways, landing on her butt on the multicolored rug of the arcade. )
Ow, ( she says, more out of habit than any actual hurt. the smirk spread across her mouth undermines any thought of lasting spite here. then clarke looks at the screens of their games, notices the time for the lap has run out and the leaderboard shows both their avatars dead last in the running since they hadn't even finished the race, and she snorts. if only all battles were that easy.
...if only all battles were that easy!
somehow that's the thought that does it. pushes her just past the last hurtle of restraint, and rips a loud, clear laugh from her chest — then another. and one more. and then it's a full on laughing fit, the shoe shaped bruise on her chest from earlier aching with every inhale. )
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that's a very accurate summary of clarke griffin; bitter loser to the end, he got her clocked in one.
and then — for this inevitably being the second time she falls dramatically on the floor, at least it's going to be funny this time.
the bike tilts, something groans like it's going to break, and clarke's distracted enough for a moment that she misses the opportunity to properly catch herself from sliding off the seat. another half-strangled help, and maybe a brief attempt to anchor herself to his torso, but ultimately, nah. she just sorta falls sideways, landing on her butt on the multicolored rug of the arcade. )
Ow, ( she says, more out of habit than any actual hurt. the smirk spread across her mouth undermines any thought of lasting spite here. then clarke looks at the screens of their games, notices the time for the lap has run out and the leaderboard shows both their avatars dead last in the running since they hadn't even finished the race, and she snorts. if only all battles were that easy.
...if only all battles were that easy!
somehow that's the thought that does it. pushes her just past the last hurtle of restraint, and rips a loud, clear laugh from her chest — then another. and one more. and then it's a full on laughing fit, the shoe shaped bruise on her chest from earlier aching with every inhale. )