[ luke's busy doing … what, exactly? clarisse is in his bathroom doing gods know what. is she rifling through all of his shit? is she going to leave some nasty prank for him in there? while the latter would've been plausible back in camp, he very much doubts clarisse is going to step back into the shoes of a fourteen year-old, especially not when she's dressed like how she is. he hasn't given himself much time to think it over, the way she's changed, and not just physically, either. she's a lot more quiet now, still as loud and abrasive and obnoxious as she had been when he'd been in her life, but something in her seems to have dimmed. luke has a feeling he had a part of that. ]
[ but he's sitting on his bed, then he moves to his closet, shutting the door to only open it once again. he pushes a shirt around, unfolds a folded corner, then closes it again. it's odd, having her in his apartment. it doesn't feel as cold as it had when it was only him. but while he has no false belief that she'll be lingering, he has to wonder what she means to do if she's stealing his clothes as though she's the spawn of hermes herself. is it a trick? he doesn't see what sort of war strategy she's implementing by asking for his clothes while showing him a much more vulnerable side to herself. ]
[ thankfully, it's her voice that gives him a purpose. him walking back and forth, pacing like the god of travelling's son he is, has him feeling uncertain of what he's allowed to transpire thus far. he's meant to be protecting himself from people like her, even though he so much as welcomed her to break his jaw in half again. ]
[ he walks to the bathroom, but stops before he gets too far. he doesn't come to the threshold, doesn't move so he can see her at all. he's merely hiding behind the wall as though she's something to be scared of. and she is. his tone is so uncertain: ] What?
no subject
[ but he's sitting on his bed, then he moves to his closet, shutting the door to only open it once again. he pushes a shirt around, unfolds a folded corner, then closes it again. it's odd, having her in his apartment. it doesn't feel as cold as it had when it was only him. but while he has no false belief that she'll be lingering, he has to wonder what she means to do if she's stealing his clothes as though she's the spawn of hermes herself. is it a trick? he doesn't see what sort of war strategy she's implementing by asking for his clothes while showing him a much more vulnerable side to herself. ]
[ thankfully, it's her voice that gives him a purpose. him walking back and forth, pacing like the god of travelling's son he is, has him feeling uncertain of what he's allowed to transpire thus far. he's meant to be protecting himself from people like her, even though he so much as welcomed her to break his jaw in half again. ]
[ he walks to the bathroom, but stops before he gets too far. he doesn't come to the threshold, doesn't move so he can see her at all. he's merely hiding behind the wall as though she's something to be scared of. and she is. his tone is so uncertain: ] What?