( if she'd been served up the choice between keeping their interactions brief and rough and tumble, or outright being called out with mentioned evidence of a good deed that probably served none — well. clarke would then have to contend with the fact she'd made most of her own choices. she'd followed him willingly into this kitchen, she'd demanded warnings splattered around the town then saw fit to do it herself. logic doesn't override emotion though, and the beat of her heart ticks up a mild amount in what can only be described as embarrassment. you ever do something but want to keep your name out of it?

a haze of purple flushes up her neck and through her ears, but once again orange juice saves the day. clarke takes another measured, slow sip in order to give herself time to recompose before answering. )

...yeah, it was. Figured since I looked at it, no one else had to. I don't know if it helped, but. I tried.

( a beat, then a hint of sass. )

Your house is really beautiful, by the way. Big upgrade from your apartment.

( stubbornness could probably be extrapolated as a trait human beings developed as some sort of survival method; stake your claim, stand your ground, defend what's yours. but today it is just being exemplified in clarke griffin being absolutely incapable of getting over their first meeting, and expressing she's still a little salty about having woken up on his couch. )