Only because you got to take it off. Don't lie to me, Castellan, I can see it in your eyes.
[ and it's so much easier reading him this close, even though reading luke castellan is like reading pig latin to her sometimes — it's already a mess of letters she can't decipher without focusing more energy than it's worth in an order made even more confusing for someone who can barely read english as it is. if only people were written in ancient greek instead of feelings and facial expressions and given the ability to mask all of that with a smirk and a few choice words, she'd be able to understand them better.
she laughs with him, finding it more contagious the more she's around him. maybe it's a hermes thing. chris was always exceptionally good at making her laugh, but luke has always had that same kind of sense of humor, even if it was always more jaded, hardened by the world around him. clarisse finds she's more susceptible to that kind of humor now, anyway — after all, isn't the world pretty shitty? even in the heart of war — or whatever this shit is with the romans — sometimes a good laugh is all it takes to boost morale, to find the strength to keep going. it's why sarcasm is part of her natural defenses; if she can find it in her to make fun of someone else, she can find it in her to trudge past all the other shit that stands in her way.
she figures if he liked that dress, though, she could find something else in her closet he might like. she doesn't own much lingerie, and she wouldn't be caught dead in anything like it unless it was for a very special occasion — but she figures luke himself is already a special occasion. honestly, it's been buried away in her closet with the rest of her guilt because every time she thinks about it she thinks of silena — there's no way in hell she'd have ever bought any kind of lingerie without silena's keen eye for fashion and her gentle goading. chris doesn't even know she has it; she never could bring herself to wear it even for him. it was too soon after everything had happened, and then things just fell apart. now she feels like she's finally picking up the pieces of herself, letting the ghosts out of her closet, and maybe, finally, finding some kind of peace in the war she's been waging against herself and luke for so long. ]
But then I wouldn't be wearing anything, and then what would you do?
[ she's missing the point on purpose, trying to goad him into... something. she's not even quite sure what that something is, she just doesn't want to put that damn dress back on. ]
no subject
[ and it's so much easier reading him this close, even though reading luke castellan is like reading pig latin to her sometimes — it's already a mess of letters she can't decipher without focusing more energy than it's worth in an order made even more confusing for someone who can barely read english as it is. if only people were written in ancient greek instead of feelings and facial expressions and given the ability to mask all of that with a smirk and a few choice words, she'd be able to understand them better.
she laughs with him, finding it more contagious the more she's around him. maybe it's a hermes thing. chris was always exceptionally good at making her laugh, but luke has always had that same kind of sense of humor, even if it was always more jaded, hardened by the world around him. clarisse finds she's more susceptible to that kind of humor now, anyway — after all, isn't the world pretty shitty? even in the heart of war — or whatever this shit is with the romans — sometimes a good laugh is all it takes to boost morale, to find the strength to keep going. it's why sarcasm is part of her natural defenses; if she can find it in her to make fun of someone else, she can find it in her to trudge past all the other shit that stands in her way.
she figures if he liked that dress, though, she could find something else in her closet he might like. she doesn't own much lingerie, and she wouldn't be caught dead in anything like it unless it was for a very special occasion — but she figures luke himself is already a special occasion. honestly, it's been buried away in her closet with the rest of her guilt because every time she thinks about it she thinks of silena — there's no way in hell she'd have ever bought any kind of lingerie without silena's keen eye for fashion and her gentle goading. chris doesn't even know she has it; she never could bring herself to wear it even for him. it was too soon after everything had happened, and then things just fell apart. now she feels like she's finally picking up the pieces of herself, letting the ghosts out of her closet, and maybe, finally, finding some kind of peace in the war she's been waging against herself and luke for so long. ]
But then I wouldn't be wearing anything, and then what would you do?
[ she's missing the point on purpose, trying to goad him into... something. she's not even quite sure what that something is, she just doesn't want to put that damn dress back on. ]