the slow, deliberate way she's blinking at him across empty plates while her finger still at their work on her own food is... telling. disbelief washes across her face first, then concern. she can't place if that's some sort of poorly delivered joke, or the sort of honesty that should have her pushing back from the table and running from the dining room. see, it's moments like this that are the reason she doesn't give out her room number and sleeps on the floor, with a knife in her hand.
and that disarming smile just adds to the confusion. and even after a few long moments, clarke still can't make heads or tails of the legitimacy of that answer. still — )
no subject
... sorry what.
the slow, deliberate way she's blinking at him across empty plates while her finger still at their work on her own food is... telling. disbelief washes across her face first, then concern. she can't place if that's some sort of poorly delivered joke, or the sort of honesty that should have her pushing back from the table and running from the dining room. see, it's moments like this that are the reason she doesn't give out her room number and sleeps on the floor, with a knife in her hand.
and that disarming smile just adds to the confusion. and even after a few long moments, clarke still can't make heads or tails of the legitimacy of that answer. still — )
I'm sure there are evil people here.