( the stranger glares at her, and clarke somehow manages to feel a flicker of fear and excitement all at once; folding in on each other and wrapping together in a neat little emotion one might call suspense. her half hearted goal here had been to start a fight on top of dumping a drink — do these bingo cards even mean anything? one can't find out without checking off the little boxes can they — and for a moment it seems like it's about to be realized. he looks pissed, and she braces for impact.
only to find herself a little disappointed in her own expectations of people. living in violent places for so long, one had come to expect... oh well, he's not lunging in her direction and, after sizing him up, she ought to count that in her favor. )
I — ( give her a minute to buffer, and also remind herself that getting stabbed is not on her list; stabbing someone is, but she doesn't want to go that far (yet). then: )
Okay, but could you at least yell at me?
( there's no fine print saying a fight has to include blood and bruised knuckles; a verbal spat should quantify. )
no subject
only to find herself a little disappointed in her own expectations of people. living in violent places for so long, one had come to expect... oh well, he's not lunging in her direction and, after sizing him up, she ought to count that in her favor. )
I — ( give her a minute to buffer, and also remind herself that getting stabbed is not on her list; stabbing someone is, but she doesn't want to go that far (yet). then: )
Okay, but could you at least yell at me?
( there's no fine print saying a fight has to include blood and bruised knuckles; a verbal spat should quantify. )