[ it's then that he remembers that she's wearing a dress. she looks like clarisse, but a clarisse who has grown up — one that most likely doesn't have a place for luke, the old luke, the new luke, the luke that's not so chewed up with anger and resentment, that luke, in her life. at the realisation that she's no longer in her usual combats and pants, his eyes drop down her form. ]
[ again. he'd gotten so caught up in the bubble that they were in to even think of making a remark of the skirt she's opted for. ]
I don't have anything of Chris'. [ it's the wrong thing to say, he knows it. chris is his brother, just as he is something special to clarisse, and whatever the hell has happened between them most likely hasn't changed the fact that it might sting to hear his name. but luke figures if clarisse wants to change, it's into something familiar. ]
[ but he honestly tries to rectify it. he glances over his shoulder to where his room his, brows furrowed slightly, but the thought doesn't occur to him. ]
Did you want to go home? [ his eyes lift back up to hers. ]
[ it doesn't exactly occur to him to ask her if she wants anything of his to wear. they're not friends, they're not even acquaintances — the thought doesn't come forth because clarisse la rue detests everything about luke castellan, even his shirts. wearing someone else's crap usually means something intimate. ]
no subject
[ it's then that he remembers that she's wearing a dress. she looks like clarisse, but a clarisse who has grown up — one that most likely doesn't have a place for luke, the old luke, the new luke, the luke that's not so chewed up with anger and resentment, that luke, in her life. at the realisation that she's no longer in her usual combats and pants, his eyes drop down her form. ]
[ again. he'd gotten so caught up in the bubble that they were in to even think of making a remark of the skirt she's opted for. ]
I don't have anything of Chris'. [ it's the wrong thing to say, he knows it. chris is his brother, just as he is something special to clarisse, and whatever the hell has happened between them most likely hasn't changed the fact that it might sting to hear his name. but luke figures if clarisse wants to change, it's into something familiar. ]
[ but he honestly tries to rectify it. he glances over his shoulder to where his room his, brows furrowed slightly, but the thought doesn't occur to him. ]
Did you want to go home? [ his eyes lift back up to hers. ]
[ it doesn't exactly occur to him to ask her if she wants anything of his to wear. they're not friends, they're not even acquaintances — the thought doesn't come forth because clarisse la rue detests everything about luke castellan, even his shirts. wearing someone else's crap usually means something intimate. ]