( the tilt of the chin speaks wonders, and clarke has to remind herself that they're not from the same world and he's not adopting the same mannerisms as the seemingly frozen in time (and cruel) mountain men. because that's what it looks like at first. nice clothes, decent hair, the near contemptuous jut of the chin; at least the outstretched palm is innocent enough, and she does deign to shake it. )

No bugs, ( she confirms. ) Anywhere. And no where out anywhere either, we've all looked.

( and after months in a rather small, enclosed space, they've all looked a lot. )

None of us are calm, really. We're all just... ( starving. ) — really tired.