( oh, this isn't about to be an expose of compelling, explanatory, condemning footage or voicemails? clarke had grown so accustomed to profound pieces of revealing information coming into her shiptalk phone in the form of shared messages or photographs, and only truly grasps she'd read the room wrong when he reaches out to gently pluck the communicator from her ear, and she freezes. the only muscles that twitch are the ones in her face, eyes fixed on his while her expression butterflies from blank alarm, to pinched confusion, and with the slight tickle of fingertips against the shell of her ear — the beginnings of understanding. oh.
embarrassment is minimal at best but still present, but will have to wait to be processed. she can feel a little stupid and adjust to be better going forward later, krouse is already moving towards the kitchenette. and despite this being her apartment, clarke follows in his wake like a student shadowing a professional in a medbay, watches him rifle through cupboards and start up the sink, her only prevailing thought being — huh, that's clever.
too clever, perhaps? how often has he played tactical defense against outside listeners before that he hadn't even fumbled the glass? what's a faraday cage? and again, what are you so scared of?
but clarke has never balked at the opportunity to learn. for the moment she's focused more on the stream of sink water and trying to imagine what the feedback through the ear piece would sound like on the other end than she is on krouse himself. and when he prompts her to get a little more distance than just shoving her earpiece in her pocket, clarke obliges. )
Okay. Give me a second.
( she retreats towards the bathroom, and spends a solid few seconds just looking around the cramped room lit by fluorescents. this is supposed to be one of the few places aurora wouldn't infiltrate in the name of surveillance unless absolutely necessary for a mission, but they'd just had one and are currently in the recovery period; the calm before the third wave of a storm. the span of time where, if they were back on the serena eterna, everyone would have been picking up the pieces and licking their wounds; taking comfort from their friends or steeling themselves with hollow resolves like hope and the sentiment that next time won't be as bad. recharging their batteries, so to speak. fooling themselves.
there's a cup that houses her toothbrush and toothpaste on the lip of the sink, but more appealing is the bathmat just outside the shower. she stoops for a moment to shove her earpiece beneath heavy memory foam and absorbent cotton, and for good measure turns the shower on full blast and flicks on the vent fan before slipping back out and closing the door behind her. the latch clicks into place at her back, and clarke drifts back across the apartment floorplan until she reaches the couch-bed — a good middle point between bathroom and kitchen, gives them the most distance.
she doesn't move to sit but stands at the arm and tilts her head, equal parts inviting him to join her here and finally spill whatever this lead up has been angling towards. )
no subject
embarrassment is minimal at best but still present, but will have to wait to be processed. she can feel a little stupid and adjust to be better going forward later, krouse is already moving towards the kitchenette. and despite this being her apartment, clarke follows in his wake like a student shadowing a professional in a medbay, watches him rifle through cupboards and start up the sink, her only prevailing thought being — huh, that's clever.
too clever, perhaps? how often has he played tactical defense against outside listeners before that he hadn't even fumbled the glass? what's a faraday cage? and again, what are you so scared of?
but clarke has never balked at the opportunity to learn. for the moment she's focused more on the stream of sink water and trying to imagine what the feedback through the ear piece would sound like on the other end than she is on krouse himself. and when he prompts her to get a little more distance than just shoving her earpiece in her pocket, clarke obliges. )
Okay. Give me a second.
( she retreats towards the bathroom, and spends a solid few seconds just looking around the cramped room lit by fluorescents. this is supposed to be one of the few places aurora wouldn't infiltrate in the name of surveillance unless absolutely necessary for a mission, but they'd just had one and are currently in the recovery period; the calm before the third wave of a storm. the span of time where, if they were back on the serena eterna, everyone would have been picking up the pieces and licking their wounds; taking comfort from their friends or steeling themselves with hollow resolves like hope and the sentiment that next time won't be as bad. recharging their batteries, so to speak. fooling themselves.
there's a cup that houses her toothbrush and toothpaste on the lip of the sink, but more appealing is the bathmat just outside the shower. she stoops for a moment to shove her earpiece beneath heavy memory foam and absorbent cotton, and for good measure turns the shower on full blast and flicks on the vent fan before slipping back out and closing the door behind her. the latch clicks into place at her back, and clarke drifts back across the apartment floorplan until she reaches the couch-bed — a good middle point between bathroom and kitchen, gives them the most distance.
she doesn't move to sit but stands at the arm and tilts her head, equal parts inviting him to join her here and finally spill whatever this lead up has been angling towards. )