Similarly, despite all the creature comforts — plentiful food and medicine, sunshine, decadence, clean clothes, a shower she could stand in for hours without worrying about exhausting a water ration, even some semblance of safety in the eye between storms — Clarke would also like to return home. She'd maybe been dying alone on an irradiated planet, but still felt like there was business there to attend to. Perhaps most pressing, she simply can't stomach the thought of being under the thumb of something with no tangible body to fight.

So Max, meet a potential lackey. Just don't call her that to her face, it's a bit insulting.

A picturesque example of contrarian, Clarke's got topics she'd bare her soul over, and those she'd rather bury beneath her own heart and never speak of. Secrets she'd share, and those she'd take to her grave over and over and over, until finally digging the final one. And her intention of following in Pirate Jenny's footsteps — hopefully with better results — teeter totters between the two. He asks why?, and there's absolutely no desire to answer honestly, but at the same time... she always has to wonder, to weigh, if it would help to bring more people into her plans. At least she's no real connection with Maximilien, and thus shouldn't care if he gets hurt in the crossfire, right? So —

"...I think everything here might end in a game of chance. Maybe even a card game. So I need to learn the rules."