"This is... weird."
Clarke couldn't agree more. The list of trust building behaviors that Dr. Grant gave them is -- well, Lexa put it perfectly. It is weird. Granted, there are some things that make sense, and it definitely wouldn't hurt to implement them, but...
"Transfer some of your assets into my name," Lexa reads out loud, frowning. "That's -- unnecessary."
Clarke shrugs, scanning the list with her eyes again. "Well, I mean, some couples have trust issues because of gambling and stuff," she points out. "So that's probably applicable to them."
Lexa appears thoughtful for a moment, and she takes that moment to discreetly take her in. With her simple white v-neck and jeans, she looks so at home on Clarke's couch as she comfortably leans back, one leg curled under her as she studies the list. Clarke really wants to kiss her, but--
Is that allowed?
She shakes her head. That's definitely not what their therapist should decide.
Right?
She blinks and goes back to the list in her hand. "Not all of this is terrible," she says. "This one isn't bad at all."
Lexa bites her lip to hide her amused smile when she glances at the bullet Clarke is pointing to with a coyly raised eyebrow. "Go on a romantic vacation with me," she reads, almost laughingly. "Yeah. Not bad at all. But then there's this one," her finger ventures to 'provide funds for me to hire a private investigator to track you', "which is just a little extreme."
Clarke reads the words again, and there's a lump in her throat that's almost painful. Because -- she's been on a receiving end of that. Not -- not from Lexa, but -- Lexa's side. Anya. Her adviser and mentor.
(Perhaps she should stop thinking of their friends and family as opposite sides if she wants this to work.)
Beside her, Lexa grows quiet, too, no doubt having realized it's something they already kinda done. This silence -- Clarke hates this kind of silence between them. Deafening and all-consuming and suffocating, riddled with guilt and past mistakes and regret.
"If I knew she was going to do that, I wouldn't have let her," Lexa speaks suddenly. She's watching Clarke, and her gaze is studying and a little guarded, like she's waiting for -- something. Clarke's reaction. Reply. She's not sure. "It's not something I would have -- approved of."
Clarke's scoff comes out a little darker than she intended. A lot less darker than she feels. "She was right to do that, wasn't she? She had a right. And she was right about me." Her gaze falls down to the list in her lap. Tell me what you need from me.
She feels like bursting with hysterical laughter.
Lexa licks her lips. Slightly opens her mouth, as if to say something, but then closes again and looks away, locking her jaw.
It's moments like this when Clarke wonders if they actually stand a chance. Sometimes, she thinks they do. When things are light and they talk about nothing in particular and Lexa's gaze is soft and warm. But that's not solving anything, is it? That's just them avoiding getting into it. Ignoring the giant, looming presence of her betrayal.
She clears her throat. "If you.... if you want, you can ask me more questions," she tries, quietly.
Lexa shakes her head. "I think it's better to have Dr. Grant mediating the discussion." And if her words are a little clipped, Clarke doesn't comment. "Maybe we should take a break," she proposes next, letting out a big breath.
