[By time Octavia finally gets there, Clarke has ordered a basket of French fries. They're warm—a sign that her patience had given out not too long ago, and the order took even longer to make its way to her. She pushes the basket forward. A small ramekin of ketchup accompanies it. There's no way for Clarke to really know what Octavia's had here. Her arrival hadn't been properly handled on Clarke's end, and as thus, neither was anything that followed.
She did a poor job of taking care of her people. Nothing new on her part, but it's also something that she can't just walk away from and pretend it didn't happen.]
Have some. They're good. [Clarke is buying time. It's not because she doesn't want to have this conversation, but because this conversation will be difficult. Talking to Octavia has always been difficult. Looking at her now, she can see the shade behind her eyes, a tension to her body that wasn't there when her eyes finally belonged to her again. Clarke can't guess what happened out there in the woods after Bellamy banished Octavia. What she does know is that she can't bring that about herself. She can't pretend that she can.
All she can do is call upon what she thinks Octavia might want to do. Ask for an alliance and see if they can work toward friendship. Perhaps Clarke can do better. Perhaps Clarke can earn that.]
I don't know how much you knew about the Primes before you got here. I don't know how much you want to know about things with Bellamy. [Clarke suspects that it's still raw, but it's hard for her to guess. To know.]
I'm willing to answer any questions about that, but first: I want to say I'm sorry. I say it a lot, so I'm trying this new thing where I make my actions agree with it. I just ask—well. Actually, it's kind of a long story ... [She huffs out a laugh.] But I know that no matter what I ask, you won't take anything I do. So I don't have a lot to ask. I just want to try.
[To do better. To answer to Monty: both the old man, and the subconscious version of Monty that she conjured up out of necessity. The one who let her know that she needed to live. Who reminded her, maybe indirectly, that he never wanted anyone to give up. Not Jasper. Not anyone else. That would be failure when it comes to Clarke Griffin, the person with an unstoppable will.]
I do, however, have something I'd like to work with you on. Something that I think ... we're uniquely suited to do together. [An olive branch of sorts. Something they can undoubtedly see eye to eye on. At least, that's what Clarke hopes.]
no subject
She did a poor job of taking care of her people. Nothing new on her part, but it's also something that she can't just walk away from and pretend it didn't happen.]
Have some. They're good. [Clarke is buying time. It's not because she doesn't want to have this conversation, but because this conversation will be difficult. Talking to Octavia has always been difficult. Looking at her now, she can see the shade behind her eyes, a tension to her body that wasn't there when her eyes finally belonged to her again. Clarke can't guess what happened out there in the woods after Bellamy banished Octavia. What she does know is that she can't bring that about herself. She can't pretend that she can.
All she can do is call upon what she thinks Octavia might want to do. Ask for an alliance and see if they can work toward friendship. Perhaps Clarke can do better. Perhaps Clarke can earn that.]
I don't know how much you knew about the Primes before you got here. I don't know how much you want to know about things with Bellamy. [Clarke suspects that it's still raw, but it's hard for her to guess. To know.]
I'm willing to answer any questions about that, but first: I want to say I'm sorry. I say it a lot, so I'm trying this new thing where I make my actions agree with it. I just ask—well. Actually, it's kind of a long story ... [She huffs out a laugh.] But I know that no matter what I ask, you won't take anything I do. So I don't have a lot to ask. I just want to try.
[To do better. To answer to Monty: both the old man, and the subconscious version of Monty that she conjured up out of necessity. The one who let her know that she needed to live. Who reminded her, maybe indirectly, that he never wanted anyone to give up. Not Jasper. Not anyone else. That would be failure when it comes to Clarke Griffin, the person with an unstoppable will.]
I do, however, have something I'd like to work with you on. Something that I think ... we're uniquely suited to do together. [An olive branch of sorts. Something they can undoubtedly see eye to eye on. At least, that's what Clarke hopes.]