Well, this isn't awkward at all, Clarke thinks to herself as she takes another sip of wine. That, of course, is meant to be as sarcastic as humanly possible.
Anya clears her throat, and everyone looks at her, surprised. Clarke's pretty sure not one single person here expects her to be the saving grace of the evening. She thinks even Anya herself doesn't expect to be that. Yet, she's the one who attempts to get the conversation going. "I would like to thank you for arranging this, Lexa," she says, looking at her. "I'm glad we're doing this."
"You've always been a great liar," Lincoln mutters into his glass. He's opted for water tonight, which Clarke couldn't help but notice. She wonders what that means. Is it because he doesn't want to cause a scene, or is it because he doesn't want to lower his guard around her?
She should probably stop being so paranoid.
Lexa stares at her brother, impassive. "Lincoln," she says, evenly, and Clarke feels her stomach twist with apprehension. If there was ever the time to use the phrase 'impending doom', now would be it.
By now, Lincoln imploding is expected. That's why, when he only sighs and speaks in a calm voice, Clarke's taken aback. "You know this isn't working," he says. Clarke's kind on inclined to agree with him. "You're uncomfortable, Anya's uncomfortable, I'm deeply embarrassed, and Clarke is terrified."
Clarke blinks. "I'm not terrified," she protests. Lincoln only tilts his head to the side, studying her.
"Really," he says, slowly.
"Well now you're just purposefully trying to intimidate me. That's not fair."
To her surprise, he leans back in his chair, letting a small smile escape. "Ah. There's the Clarke Griffin I know and..." he trails off, shrugging. "...know."
Lexa's face darkens, and Clarke immediately places her hand on hers before she has a chance to tear into him. She definitely doesn't want to witness yet another falling out between two siblings. That, and Lincoln's words were completely in jest. There's a first time for everything, Clarke supposes.
She just shoots him a look.
"If you come to me with a problem," Anya says, "I expect to hear a solution, too. Or have you forgotten?"
"Oh, I have one," Lincoln says, looking around the table. "We need to hash it out instead of failing at small talk. I'm not here to sweep things under the rug. I'm here to own up to things I did."
"Perhaps you and I should've had a private discussion before... this," Clarke suggests, unsure. He shakes his head.
"You would've never agreed to meet with me." Her expression must've betrayed her taking offence, because he hurries to explain. "I'm not saying that you'd be scared. I don't actually think that. I just know you wouldn't trust me enough."
Trust. That's pretty much the running theme of her whole life, it seems. She can't exactly argue with him on that.
"Look." Lincoln is focused. Determined. "I will be honest. I don't trust you, too. Not yet. I'm not sure I'll ever get there, and I think you understand that." Clarke does. On top of her hurting the person he probably loves the most in this world, her relationship with Lexa almost cost him his relationship with his sister. It's a lot to get over. But he's doing good so far, and Clarke is glad. "But I trust my sister, and that's something I should have been doing this entire time. Who knows," he gives her a wry grin, "maybe, if I didn't nag her about you the first time, she wouldn't have been so adamant about blindly believing you."
"Lincoln-" Lexa starts, but he puts his hands up, smiling.
"I'm kidding, mostly. What I'm trying to say is, you know what you're doing," he tells her. "And if, after everything she's done, you're still willing to believe her, there must be a damn good reason. Besides, you're the boss," he shrugs. "You're capable of making your own decisions. And mistakes."
