Again with the secrets, all those three questions get in response is a shrug. An impartial — "It's not hard to figure out if you've been paying attention."
Jenny and Friday told her. Jenny, Friday, and the specific taste of the magic on board were basically the only avenues of information they had so far. And as for existence... Clarke's own experience at the previous party paled in comparison to the losses of Rita Mordio and trauma of Yuri Lowell — the only person who's seen the captain's face so far.
"You haven't been here long yet, right? I didn't recognize you, at least. But I think it's pretty obvious there are people here who aren't going to be content to sit on their hands and be boring."
Name and shame, their party host. Equal amounts of shame, probably Clarke herself, but she's being humble. There's just... too many fighters here, used to relying on their own luck and foresight to prevent death. Each wrapped in their own ideals, all from different worlds, and no leader to unify the entire ship. The fight may be all they are now, but how does one launch a successful campaign from so many different angles?
Despite her insistence that they keep playing, she's not paying any real attention to the odds in the moment — too consumed within her own thoughts, physically unable to relax and enjoy a party without it ultimately coming back around to that sense of impending doom hanging over their heads — and gestures for another card before even really thinking about it. Make or break her 16, Max.
no subject
Jenny and Friday told her. Jenny, Friday, and the specific taste of the magic on board were basically the only avenues of information they had so far. And as for existence... Clarke's own experience at the previous party paled in comparison to the losses of Rita Mordio and trauma of Yuri Lowell — the only person who's seen the captain's face so far.
"You haven't been here long yet, right? I didn't recognize you, at least. But I think it's pretty obvious there are people here who aren't going to be content to sit on their hands and be boring."
Name and shame, their party host. Equal amounts of shame, probably Clarke herself, but she's being humble. There's just... too many fighters here, used to relying on their own luck and foresight to prevent death. Each wrapped in their own ideals, all from different worlds, and no leader to unify the entire ship. The fight may be all they are now, but how does one launch a successful campaign from so many different angles?
Despite her insistence that they keep playing, she's not paying any real attention to the odds in the moment — too consumed within her own thoughts, physically unable to relax and enjoy a party without it ultimately coming back around to that sense of impending doom hanging over their heads — and gestures for another card before even really thinking about it. Make or break her 16, Max.