( that's the sort of answer that isn't an answer at all; that leaves clarke first staring at the queen piece in her hand, then curling her fingers tightly around the ridges whilst turning bodily in her seat to stare at his retreating back. kaji can likely feel the accusatory holes her eyes burn in the back of his skull, the wisp of conscious that isn't ready to let this conversation go. but clarke doesn't rise to chase him.
doesn't break their weak oath to dig a proper answer out of his grey matter.
she spends far too much time thinking about their conversation, about what they'd learned about each other and chosen to take away from it. he was maybe but probably not a sociopath, and she was somehow familiar in her directness. there's the precipice of thought to be teetered on, wondering if maybe he reminded her of someone too. but likewise, the idea is an open wound.
clarke loses her interest in playing the one sided chess game. packs up the pieces in his wake, and for once, leaves less of a mess than she'd stumbled upon. )
no subject
doesn't break their weak oath to dig a proper answer out of his grey matter.
she spends far too much time thinking about their conversation, about what they'd learned about each other and chosen to take away from it. he was maybe but probably not a sociopath, and she was somehow familiar in her directness. there's the precipice of thought to be teetered on, wondering if maybe he reminded her of someone too. but likewise, the idea is an open wound.
clarke loses her interest in playing the one sided chess game. packs up the pieces in his wake, and for once, leaves less of a mess than she'd stumbled upon. )