[ Krouse watches Clarke trace the trail of Tattletale's scar across her cheek as if he's already remembering this moment from a distance, glassed over and remote. His heart beats hard enough it's all he can feel, drowning out the sick knot in his stomach and the tightness of his chest.
Everything he'd said to Tattletale, he'd said because he didn't have anything left to lose. As she triumphantly reminded him, she'd helped make sure of that. If she regretted not leaving herself any leverage to hold over him, well, that was her fucking problem.
It was an accident that Clarke ended up with his gun, but Tattletale's not going to believe that. Even if he gets rid of it now, the link still exists. Sooner or later, she's going to take the pieces she has and put them together. It's not going to matter if he tries to explain that it doesn't mean anything, a series of coincidences that only look like conspiracy.
It doesn't matter, because even if he can convince her of that, he's not going to be able to convince her that there's nothing here she can use. Nothing here that wouldn't be fun to pull apart, just to show off that she still can.
The smart move is to walk away. Cut his losses, ignore the fallout. Clarke can fend for herself, and it doesn't mean a thing to him at the end of the day. Whatever Tattletale decides to do to her and her guilt isn't his problem.
The door clicks all the way shut behind him at the nudge of his heel. He keeps looking at her, her hollowed out eyes and too-serious mouth. ]
I'm about to ask you something shitty, and you're not going to want to answer without asking me why. I need you to not do that. Just answer. Gut instinct, yes or no.
[ Quiet, almost perfectly level, even as his eyes bore into her with all the urgency he's keeping out of his voice. ]
Do you think you can try to trust me on something?
no subject
Everything he'd said to Tattletale, he'd said because he didn't have anything left to lose. As she triumphantly reminded him, she'd helped make sure of that. If she regretted not leaving herself any leverage to hold over him, well, that was her fucking problem.
It was an accident that Clarke ended up with his gun, but Tattletale's not going to believe that. Even if he gets rid of it now, the link still exists. Sooner or later, she's going to take the pieces she has and put them together. It's not going to matter if he tries to explain that it doesn't mean anything, a series of coincidences that only look like conspiracy.
It doesn't matter, because even if he can convince her of that, he's not going to be able to convince her that there's nothing here she can use. Nothing here that wouldn't be fun to pull apart, just to show off that she still can.
The smart move is to walk away. Cut his losses, ignore the fallout. Clarke can fend for herself, and it doesn't mean a thing to him at the end of the day. Whatever Tattletale decides to do to her and her guilt isn't his problem.
The door clicks all the way shut behind him at the nudge of his heel. He keeps looking at her, her hollowed out eyes and too-serious mouth. ]
I'm about to ask you something shitty, and you're not going to want to answer without asking me why. I need you to not do that. Just answer. Gut instinct, yes or no.
[ Quiet, almost perfectly level, even as his eyes bore into her with all the urgency he's keeping out of his voice. ]
Do you think you can try to trust me on something?