( ah, so that backfired spectacularly. this is why she doesn't make jokes and honestly just shouldn't even try. sometimes it's a very thin line between laughing about a situation and crying about it, but. gallows humor doesn't land after the rope's already drawn taught and you're swinging, does it? obviously she should have just cried.

with a sigh, clarke withdraws the hand she'd extended and tucks it back along the backing of her seat. then slouches lower, settling her chin on her arms. this isn't the first time someone's spat at the very idea of her and accused her of being the coldest of coldhearted bitches. it won't be the last either. )

Who could be happy being right about something like this, Darcy?

( there's nothing smug in clarke's features, just... the ghost of fury suddenly blanketed by exhaustion. )

I actually think our only way out of this is if we all work together. I hope it is, because it's the only real idea I've got. But hope isn't going to change the fact that at the rate we're going, a lot of people are going to get hurt before we can ever make that a reality. A lot already have.