( is the twisted, painfully awkward and distinctly uncomfortable furrow of her brow not clue enough? no? actually that's fair, clarke sort of always looks like she's in existential distress, and the cool down after running in the rain already stained her cheeks ruddy flushed. still, she's pressing her mouth together so tightly that her lips disappear, curled in against her teeth. if please don't were an expression, this is roughly what it'd look like.

still, they're not doing anything awful here. with the downpour, there's barely anyone around, so why does it feel like every move is scrutinized? but it's fine. it's fine, this is basically just a business transaction.

venti balks a little at the last second, and clarke means to ask what's the hold up? but what actually tumbles out of her mouth is: )

Did I ever tell you I have another name too?

( likewise, she doesn't catch the horrible truth lead in rolling off her tongue. is still just standing in front of him, looking a little impatient and holding out her hand.

the next sentiment that gets twisted is: i won't even look at it if you don't want me to. because she likes a picture of his decapitated head to be similar to the close up re-runs of the battle royale that had focused on her face and severed arm swinging loosely at mizuki's side. snapshots of horribly intimate moments of torment, things she wished nobody has ever seen. watching herself crying and shaking in natsuno's arms with other patrons peppered around the bar had almost been worse than dying. but this would have been a lie, and is thus unknowingly cut off at the source. )

Not the same way you do, but. It built me a reputation off the back of fear in my world.