[ Clarke's sobriety tempers his levity, even if it comes with a tight smile on her part. He can't decide what it means, not with the breadth of ambiguity that just happened to be on different sides can cover after a hesitation like that.

But it's not pulling back on her end. There's an extension of more tentative trust, wrapped around a question she might not even know she's asking. ]

Those are the tough ones.

[ He turns his head slightly with his gaze, leaning further into his palm as he studies a seam in her couch upholstery. Unsurprisingly, there's no revelatory insight hidden in the stitching. ]

It'd be convenient if more people were completely irrational idiots, wouldn't it? I know it'd be a weight off my mind.

[ He hasn't liked most of the people who have been on different sides. Tattletale happens to be an acute case in point, but also an exception, in her own way: she doesn't have friends on her own side either.

Then again, neither did he. Some people just aren't built likeable. ]

Maybe if they show up, they'll exercise some of that reasonable self-interest to realize it's not a great idea to fuck things up for themselves over old grudges. [ He shifts his focus back to her, mirroring the tired ruefulness of her still ambiguous smile. ] Nothing brings people together like a common cause, right?

Or so the theory goes.