THE DOZEN

NATURAL SELECTION.

"I'm not pissed off," she answered in a way that contradicted her denial. "It's just early." With her bag fully supplied, she took a step back and finally let her eyes focus on him. Truthfully, he looked like he'd just gotten done dumpster-diving. The rings under his eyes were more intense than they were yesterday (and the day before), his five o'clock shadow was just becoming more patchy, and it was obvious that the weight of recent events weighed on him - judging by his tired eyes and disheveled hair. "You look rough," she mumbled as politely as she could.

He faked a smile. "Thanks."

"No, I mean, like..." Clara knew she couldn't tell him that he looked like pitiful, but that was what danced on the tip of her tongue. She didn't mean it in a bad way. It was just really blatant that he wasn't doing well. "Forget it."

Noticing the stuffed bag, now tossed onto her bed, he inquired, "Where are you going?"

"That hospital from the other day," she answered shortly, sitting down on her bed.

Lucas' eyebrows furrowed. "Really?" he questioned, leaning off the table and gravitating towards her. "Why?"

"To get stuff." Watching Lucas' expression fade from his face, emotionless eyes blankly staring at her, she cleared her throat and began to elaborate, "You know, medicine and-"

"I know," he was quick to interrupt defensively. The thought of her going somewhere alone - again - crossed his mind, prompting him to ask, "Parker's going with you, right?"

"No, he's out with Derek right now," she shook her head. His expression immediately changed again, now more confused than ever, and she let out a brief sigh. Leaning down to reach for her boots (and also just to avoid eye-contact with him), she continued with a quiet, "I'm going with Maxson."

"Seriously?" he automatically questioned, seemingly just at the very sound of Maxson's name. "That guy?" Clara's only response was a simple nod, warranting a heavy sigh from him. He just couldn't imagine. Weren't girls raised to know that it was very, very bad to hang out with strange men? Especially when they tried forcing you to burn your friend's dead body? Lucas wasn't even in the mood for leaving the motel, but he'd rather tolerate Clara for a few hours than she go off with some guy. "I'll go," he offered, shrugging his shoulders. "You and me, we can go."

A slight scoff escaped her before she could stop herself. Standing to her feet, now completely ready to go, she crossed her arms and replied with a, "You don't have to shadow me, you know-"

"No shit, Clara," he interjected. "But I think it's better if I go than that guy."

"Yeah?" she asked incredulously. "Why's that?"

For a moment, it was deafeningly silent between them. Then, Lucas shrugged again, much more sheepishly this time, and mumbled a small, "Because."

"Because?"

"Because...," he trailed off, brushing past her to sit in the spot she was just sitting. He kept his eyes glued to his hands in his lap, hoping that by the time he looked up, she'd be gone and forget he even said anything. Instead, she was standing just a foot in front of him, arms still crossed as she patiently awaited an answer. How could he tell her that he didn't like the possibility of her being in danger, without it sounding stupid and childish? "That guy's weird," he slowly explained, refusing to maintain eye contact with her. "He's shady, you know? What if he's, like, a murderer or something?"

Unresponsive, Clara walked away from where he was sitting. Reaching behind him to grab her bag, she tried to push back all the thoughts that dared to torture her. She knew he had a point. She knew she was in over her head. However, Clara also knew that Maxson was the key to their survival. It was because of him and his good grace that they had a place to call home, however ominous and intimidating it might've been. And he didn't seem like that bad of a guy. He was just... intense.