Seems like they sit there for ages, facing each other without speaking, but in reality it's not that long. Fifteen, twenty seconds, maybe.
Somewhere around second nine, Clarisse realizes that this is also kind of her fault. She hasn't pushed Abby to talk about anything deeper than surface-level shit, and she hasn't exactly jumped at the chance to talk about anything on her end, either.
She's still doing it now, having flipped the conversation away from her own fucked up trauma—less awful than Ellie's revenge trip to Seattle, but not exactly forgivable, either—to point fingers at Abby instead.
Can't really be that mad at someone for not wanting to talk about themselves when you're pulling the exact same shit.
"Why'd you do it?" she asks finally. She doesn't need to say what it is. They both know.
no subject
Somewhere around second nine, Clarisse realizes that this is also kind of her fault. She hasn't pushed Abby to talk about anything deeper than surface-level shit, and she hasn't exactly jumped at the chance to talk about anything on her end, either.
She's still doing it now, having flipped the conversation away from her own fucked up trauma—less awful than Ellie's revenge trip to Seattle, but not exactly forgivable, either—to point fingers at Abby instead.
Can't really be that mad at someone for not wanting to talk about themselves when you're pulling the exact same shit.
"Why'd you do it?" she asks finally. She doesn't need to say what it is. They both know.