“Is the paperwork to your liking,” her mother prodded. Clarke looked up from the info pad and gave her a look.
“Looks like your standard ‘how to stop a coup before we run out of air’ type agreement.” She wasn’t sure but she thought she saw Bellamy Blake bite his lip to stop a laugh from escaping. It was out of her periphery, she was having some nostalgic feelings from school, and she couldn’t spare him a glance, she had to stare down her mother, but well, maybe.
“Clarke,” her mother scolded her like she wasn’t an adult with a dead husband, and a child, like she wasn’t about to be used again for her mother’s political gain.
“Do you want to step outside?”
“No, Chancellor,” Clarke said with an air of condescension. “The paperwork looks fine. But I hope you’re going to buy us some new sheets or a punch bowl for the trouble.”