Lexa takes the wine at about the same time as Bellamy, sipping only briefly before cupping her palms around the bowl, fingers lacing. She doesn't look at Bellamy, but tenses faintly as he begins to speak. She knows that he would want to protect Clarke, but she also believes he's a hotheaded moron who doesn't think things through all the way before he does them. (Exhibit 1: her presence here)
His answer doesn't exactly ease her, though it is better than it could have been. They're on the same page about Clarke, at least, it seems. But it rankles, and it also doesn't tell enough. She lets her lip twitch at 'run-ins', the briefest little curl of distaste before they settle back into a flat line.
"One of his friends killed a dozen of my people," she says, and she allows the tightness back into her voice, the hint of both anger at the crime and irritation at Bellamy's characterization of it, all tightly reined. She looks like she wants to turn and glare at him pointedly as she adds this information, but she resists. "Not warriors, villagers. Elders and children. I ordered him executed. Bellamy disagreed."
no subject
His answer doesn't exactly ease her, though it is better than it could have been. They're on the same page about Clarke, at least, it seems. But it rankles, and it also doesn't tell enough. She lets her lip twitch at 'run-ins', the briefest little curl of distaste before they settle back into a flat line.
"One of his friends killed a dozen of my people," she says, and she allows the tightness back into her voice, the hint of both anger at the crime and irritation at Bellamy's characterization of it, all tightly reined. She looks like she wants to turn and glare at him pointedly as she adds this information, but she resists. "Not warriors, villagers. Elders and children. I ordered him executed. Bellamy disagreed."