"Hey," Ava says gently, an awkward attempt at petting Clarke's arm. "This is a start, isn't it? I don't..." she doesn't know who the rest of them are. Allies that Clarke's found upon the ship, she supposes. She's avoided her own social life enough that she isn't particularly nosy about whatever cliques the teenagers are forming, or whatever relationship drama is going on that night. She feels far too old for any of that, but she envies it too. The ability to just... connect. People keep telling her that she should, that there's strength in numbers, that she needs to stop disappearing or pushing everyone away.

And maybe this is a start for her too. Trying to repair something that felt better off broken.

"I don't have any answers, because I failed. All I have are my mistakes," Ava reaches to play with a strand of Clarke's hair. She's never been around other women much, has always found them a bit intimidating with how they're meant to balance being so many different things at once, things that she's never learned. But there's something more relatable in Clarke that she finds.

"I fought for so long for the right to exist, let it consume me. That when I finally... when I was given mercy from my suffering. I realized I don't even know how to live. It just feels so empty. So yes... maybe I'm fooling myself, trying to enjoy some food I can barely pronounce. Relax in the hot tub, learning to braid hair. They're stupid things. But I need that."