Look, don't ask any teenager to keep themselves perfectly contained when they feel like they've gotten the better of an adult in a competitive setting. Does she know how old Max is? Nope, but he seems like an authority on card games, and Clarke can't read the tells across his metal visage that would give away he'd caught her cheat and was simply letting it slide. So that's two wins — one on each side the table — and a little boost to her pride.

Sometimes a girl just needs a win...

She's flipping her own cards over, revealing a grand total of eleven. If she's supposed to hit her own hand again or not, Clarke doesn't know and thus just gathers the deck together before offering it back to him. Go again, the unspoken challenge. She'd meant it earlier, and would play hand after hand until Max gets tired of her company or something more pressing arises.

"Interesting." Is it? From a world running on the fumes of technology and constantly on the precipice of endings, yeah. Robots are objectively pretty interesting. Clarke's just doing her best to roll with the punches on this ship, not getting caught up on things like magic, vampires, and gods.

"So what year are you from?"