( it's palpable what he's doing; idle jokes, an easy kind of open honesty that she hadn't asked for but readily appreciated. if kept up, chances of clarke favoring sam with a very uneasy but rather genuine smile greatly increase, even if the look she favors the tray of alcoholic beverages with is this side of distrusting. )
It'll go straight to our heads. ( heat and alcohol made for a very mental sort of intoxication, and even surrounded by water, the threat of dehydration could make the whole lot of them collectively stupid.
and yet that all seems rather appealing right now, chasing unease with complimentary cocktails. it would be easy to blame the nagging inclination to use alcohol as a bandage, borrowed from her broodmate, but in all honesty, it is clarke's creeping unhappiness and skin-crawling discomfort that has her reaching for the closest glass, an alarmingly green drink with bits of leaves floating amidst the ice cubes. )
So you were an army medic? ( it makes sense, if she thinks on it. kneeling side by side over lavellan, four hands steady on various alien but familiar instruments; neither shying away from the blood or gore, only from the reality of the symbiote between folds of grey matter. but clarke doesn't ponder the fit of the puzzle pieces too long, she's taking one sip of the chilly refreshment and — yikes. yeah, that will lend to killing body-shyness quite efficiently.
she's distracted from praising the necessity of his skill set, instead busy pulling a rather spectacular face. )
no subject
It'll go straight to our heads. ( heat and alcohol made for a very mental sort of intoxication, and even surrounded by water, the threat of dehydration could make the whole lot of them collectively stupid.
and yet that all seems rather appealing right now, chasing unease with complimentary cocktails. it would be easy to blame the nagging inclination to use alcohol as a bandage, borrowed from her broodmate, but in all honesty, it is clarke's creeping unhappiness and skin-crawling discomfort that has her reaching for the closest glass, an alarmingly green drink with bits of leaves floating amidst the ice cubes. )
So you were an army medic? ( it makes sense, if she thinks on it. kneeling side by side over lavellan, four hands steady on various alien but familiar instruments; neither shying away from the blood or gore, only from the reality of the symbiote between folds of grey matter. but clarke doesn't ponder the fit of the puzzle pieces too long, she's taking one sip of the chilly refreshment and — yikes. yeah, that will lend to killing body-shyness quite efficiently.
she's distracted from praising the necessity of his skill set, instead busy pulling a rather spectacular face. )