[ clarisse feels an odd sense of solidarity with luke in the moment he looks at her and affirms her actions rather than chide her for acting out like that in public. she's so used to percy and annabeth and every other damn person she knows getting onto her or rolling their eyes or sighing exasperatedly like she's a child they can't control and feel obligated to apologize for. luke does neither of those things, and when she returns his gaze, there's a hint of genuine surprise (and almost gratitude) in her eyes.
she doesn't say anything, just nods. she's about to take her wrist back, but something about the way his eyes say he's on her side for this one makes her reconsider. it's a glimpse into something they used to have that isn't there anymore, but it's another reminder than people can change. she still hasn't fully accepted this new luke, a ghost of who he used to be, but she likes to think that she's done a little growing up since the fall of kronos. she's still stubborn as a mule and gratitude doesn't come easily from her, but she's willing to let go of that for just a moment, just enough to take his hand and squeeze it, a silent offering of her thanks for being the one person who understands — even if he's the last person she wants to understand.
the gesture doesn't last long, a momentary show of vulnerability she'd rather not linger on once they've emerged on the other side of the intersection, no longer surrounded by unfamiliar mortals. she finds something else to do with her hands — the skull ring on other hand suddenly becoming a lot more interesting. she tries not to dwell on the fact that for a moment, just a moment (and nothing more), she felt comfortable with luke. he isn't chris, she has to keep telling herself, and he never will be. ]
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she doesn't say anything, just nods. she's about to take her wrist back, but something about the way his eyes say he's on her side for this one makes her reconsider. it's a glimpse into something they used to have that isn't there anymore, but it's another reminder than people can change. she still hasn't fully accepted this new luke, a ghost of who he used to be, but she likes to think that she's done a little growing up since the fall of kronos. she's still stubborn as a mule and gratitude doesn't come easily from her, but she's willing to let go of that for just a moment, just enough to take his hand and squeeze it, a silent offering of her thanks for being the one person who understands — even if he's the last person she wants to understand.
the gesture doesn't last long, a momentary show of vulnerability she'd rather not linger on once they've emerged on the other side of the intersection, no longer surrounded by unfamiliar mortals. she finds something else to do with her hands — the skull ring on other hand suddenly becoming a lot more interesting. she tries not to dwell on the fact that for a moment, just a moment (and nothing more), she felt comfortable with luke. he isn't chris, she has to keep telling herself, and he never will be. ]