Chapter Text
Liquid sloshes over the edge of the pewter cup as Niylah sets it down in front of Clarke with a grunt. Raven smirks and swigs from her own cup as Clarke shakes off her now wet hand.
“Why do you always have to piss off the good ones?”
“What did I do?”
“Come on, Clarke. What you always do. Bat your long lashes and flirt and then ship out like none of it matters.”
Clarke scoffs into her drink, “Because none of it does matter, Rave.”
Raven nods her head towards Niylah, “Tell that to her. And while you’re at it, tell her not to take it out on me just because I sail with you.”
“Piss off, Raven.”
Raven turns around and locates the boy lurking in the back of the darkened room who smiles before slinking further into the shadows. She slides herself carefully off the stool, adjusting her legs under her. “Don’t mind if I do, Griff.”
She saunters away towards the shadows and Clarke can’t help herself. “We push off at dawn, Reyes. If you’re late you’ll have to swim.”
“Aye aye, Cap.”
Clarke takes another swig from her watered down rum. Raven was right, Niylah is angry, but she’ll never admit it, never give Raven the satisfaction. Instead, she finishes her drink and asks for another, calmly brushing her fingers over Niylah’s wrist.
The look she receives isn’t as frosty as before and Clarke wonders if she might have a warm bed to sleep in tonight.
“Still the same cocky asshole, huh, Griffin?”
“Still following me for lack of better ideas, Anya?” Clarke turns to Raven’s formerly empty stool to the tall, proud woman perched on top, the smirk on her face plain as day.
“Just visiting the best port in the Caribbean… you know, this place used to be known for it’s hospitality until someone started fucking around with the bar help.”
“Must be a lot of someones then, every time I come in here this place is crawling with vermin.”
Anya lets out a laugh and claps Clarke hard on the back, “I’ll give you that, Griffin.”
Clarke can’t help but smile when Niylah nearly spills Anya’s drink all over her as she sets it down on the bar.
“What are you trading?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Anya takes a sip from her drink and grimaces, Clarke smiles as Niylah catches her eye.
“How’s the ship holding up these days? Heard you took some gunfire from that bastard Roan.”
“Is that so?”
Clarke nods, growing tired of the game. “He’s been giving everyone trouble… trying to find that damn map.”
Anya shifts on her stool, twitches her foot. “You know the old girl. Strong and sturdy.”
“Just like the Ark.”
Anya laughs again, “Please? That hunk of wood? I’m surprised you ever get anywhere, Griff.”
Clarke rolls her eyes and downs the rest of her drink before standing and brushing her palms off on her pants, the worn leather soft underneath her fingers. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out two coins, throwing them down on the bar and winking at Niylah, ignoring the glare from the girl’s father as he wipes down the other end of the bar.
“Well, this has been marvelous… but I have other business to attend to.” Clarke steps closer to Anya, lowers her voice, “Tell your Commander she’d be wise not to move against Roan. Not now. Something’s not right here.”
Anya tries to roll her eyes but stops herself, meeting Clarke’s gaze. “What do you know?”
“I know enough.”