Chapter 12:
The first real conversation Clark had with Lee happened on the second morning since he unofficially joined their gang, in the quietness between the end of Lilly's overnight watch and the beginning of everyone else's day.
Clark had been up since five. He'd been up since five every morning, which was a cat habit that had bled into his human schedule whether he wanted it to or not, and he'd stopped fighting it when it meant a better chance of survival alone.
He was by the fire, feeding it the way he'd gotten into the routine of doing, when Lee's door opened, and Lee came out with the alertness of a man who hadn't slept as much as he'd wanted and had decided to stop trying at some point.
Even now, Clark could see many things was on the man's mind, and his shoulder was tense when it should be relaxed after sleep. Clark wondered if he could help him somehow.
The man crossed to the fire without looking surprised to find Clark there, or if he was surprised, he didn't show it. He sat on a picnic chair by the fire, held his hands out to it, and said nothing for a moment.
Clark said nothing back.
They sat like that for a while, which was its own kind of comfortable once you stopped waiting for it to end.
"You sleep okay?" Lee asked, eventually.
"Better than I have in a while." Clark poked at the fire. He wouldn't lie to the other person who had saved him. Clark, just like with Carley, was in the man's debt. Though not as severe as hers. But still, a life debt was a life debt. "You?"
"Some." Lee's mouth did something that wasn't quite a smile. "Getting better at it."
Clark nodded.
Another stretch of quiet, the fire crackling and popping.
"You said your family was in Macon," Lee said after a while. He picked up on Lilly slowly turning to them from the top of the RV to listen in. For a moment, Clark closed his eyes, remembered the faces, before nodding. He kept quiet, thankful that Lee wasn't pushing.
He was just picking up a thread that had been left out during yesterday's conversation.
"Yeah." Clark looked at the fire. "My dad's side. Uncles, aunts, cousins."
Lee didn't fill the silence. He let it sit, which Clark was starting to recognize as a deliberate thing Lee did. The silence of a man who had learned that people filled their own silences if you gave them room.
"None of them made it," Clark said to the fire. "I spent… time is getting weird to track… At least two and a half weeks walking from Atlanta for a chance to see them." He paused. "That's the whole story."
"What about your mom's side?" Lilly asked, her voice gentler than he remembered. Usually, even if he had spent only one day with the group, Lilly's voice was devoid of warmth. It was hard and cold and authoritative. But Clark understood.
He was starting to understand her a little better.
Still, his last sentence was his way of saying that he didn't want to talk about it more. His silence prolonged, and Lilly seemed to get the message, a comforting nod sent to him, and she turned to resume her watch.
"My wife was cheating on me," Lee started. Clark turned to look at him, a little surprised. He'd explained his story a little when he shared his story during the first night, but it looked like there were a lot of things unsaid, just like things from his past that Clark left unsaid.
"I found out. I-" He stopped. "It didn't go well. That's why I was in a police car when the outbreak started."
"You killed your wife?" Clark asked, and Lee winced at his blunt tone, but shook his head.
"Oh, you killed the man?" Again, Lee blankly stared at him, but Clark didn't mind. He understood it and nodded. "Good. I'd also kill him if I were in your shoes."
Lee raised his eyebrow at him, which Clark interpreted as his way of saying continue. But Clark didn't continue. But he made his stance clear as well. That he was on Lee's side. That he shouldn't feel guilty over killing a scum like that man. Heck, Clark would have forced himself to forget his actions and that man, cause he shouldn't deserve even a second of his time.
In the silence, Clark thought over the times his relatives and families were alive, feeling immensely grateful that he had grown into one without severe drama that made them cut ties with each other or even cheating on each other.
He couldn't think of a loved one betraying another for the pleasures of one night. It just didn't make sense to Clark on any level. Why cheat if you are unsatisfied or unhappy? Divorce each other and then go do whatever you want afterwards. Marriages shouldn't be a prison. But it still is a promise, the promise of a person's lifetime. You shouldn't break a promise. But you can cut them by speaking out.
For a moment, Clark thought about what he'd do if he found someone special to him, especially in their world where nothing, even shelter, food, and water, isn't guaranteed to them anymore. What would he do? What could he offer her?
After a minute of thinking, Clark concluded nothing- He couldn't offer her food and water, because they would, with certainty, face days without food and water. He couldn't offer her comfort or shelter. The only thing he could offer was that she could lean on him when tired.
But that would bring the next question: what type of relationship would it be? There was no time to explore options as a girlfriend and boyfriend. Because there would be no other options. Which left marriage? He shook his head, marriage was too far-
Or was it? Heck, they were in a life-or-death situation every single day of their life. Why not make that promise early and get it out of the way? Clear everything out of what she'd be to him and what he'd be to her.
Clark stopped that train of thought before it derailed completely, because he was sitting by a fire with Lee Everett at five in the morning and had somehow ended up mentally planning a marriage to no one in particular, which was a new low even by apocalypse standards.
He poked the fire again. Harder than necessary.
"Finished thinking?" Lee asked, and whatever that showed on his face seemed to make the man look smug for reasons he couldn't identify. "Tell me what was it about?"
"Nothing useful."
Lee made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh but was in the same family. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the sky, which was turning from gray to pale gold, and said nothing for a moment.
"How long were you alone? Truly." Lee asked.
Clark considered the question. But sighed. He wouldn't lie to someone who saved him- he kept telling himself that.
"Roughly, the entire outbreak-" he saw a complicated expression on his face, and even Lilly looked to the ground- "Give or take some days where I was near people without being with them."
"Near people."
"Watching from a distance. Making sure they weren't a threat or bandits," He paused. "Or making sure they wouldn't turn."
"If they were bandits?" Lilly asked from her high position, and Clark shrugged his shoulders. "I'd kill them all."
The fire crackled. Lee looked at him with an expression that was mixed. He realized that the man was judging him, worried for him, and worried for themselves, which Clark didn't fault the man for. Heck, he applauded him for having that reflex- He was being such a hypocrite. But well, Lilly wasn't the one to save him, so that feeling of hypocrisy washed away.
"How?" Lilly asked. Her voice was still that gentler register from before, which Clark was surprised that it hadn't turned cold or bossy. Maybe it was a way to extract more information out of him. Seeing Lee pay attention to him, he decided to continue.
"Hordes." Clark poked the fire. "I'd find one, lead it in their direction, and disappear." He paused. "It worked every time."
Lee was quiet for a moment. "How many groups?"
"Four." Clark looked at the coals. "All bandits. All confirmed before I acted." He felt the need to add that last part and wasn't sure if it was for their benefit or his own. "I didn't kill anyone who wasn't already choosing to."
Lilly said nothing to that. Neither did Lee. But neither of them got up and walked away, which Clark was starting to learn was its own form of acceptance around here.
"That's a long time to be alone," Lee said eventually.
Clark shrugged. Then stopped shrugging, because shrugging was what he did when he didn't want to examine something, and he was tired, and it was five in the morning, and the fire was warm, and Lee had just told him about his wife's affair without making it sound like a confession or a complaint. Just a fact offered to level the ground between them.
The least Clark could do was meet him there.
"It was," he said. "Gets loud after a while." He watched the fire. "Not outside. Inside. The quiet outside is fine. Peaceful even. The inside quiet is-" He stopped, trying to find the word. "Different" was the gentler word. Agonizing was the word that he wanted to say.
Lee nodded like he knew exactly what Clark meant, which he probably did. Or not, Clark wasn't sure.
"Clementine helped with that," Lee said. "Having someone to talk to. Someone to-" He paused. "Someone to keep it together for."
Clark thought about that. About having a reason that wasn't just survival, that wasn't just the next hour, but was a face and the face- no, the faces, appeared. Something outside yourself that required you to keep going.
"Yeah," he said. "I can see that."
The sky kept turning. Pale gold became something warmer.
"For what it's worth," Clark said to the fire, "what happened to you, the cheating and all of it-" He paused, choosing his words care "You didn't deserve that. And I think you know that. But sometimes it helps to hear someone else say it."
Lee looked at him sideways, his complex expression turning to a smile, and then a laugh.
Clark kept his eyes on the fire, his ears burning, and felt mildly embarrassed about the whole thing, but didn't take it back.
"Yeah," Lee said quietly. "It does."
"And neither did you." Lilly spoke up, looking at Clark in his emerald eyes, "You were- still are a kid. You didn't deserve to go through all that."
…
…
…
The board game appeared on that same afternoon, brought to them by Ben Paul from somewhere in the motel's back office, with the energy of someone who had been waiting for a safe moment to suggest it to kill some tension off and had finally decided the moment had arrived.
It was Monopoly. Of course, it was Monopoly.
Clark would crush them all! He'd shown them the reason his parents and cousins hated him whenever he suggested Monopoly during gatherings.
"I haven't played this since I was twelve," Clark said, looking at the box and remembering his cousin Marcus tackling him after he took his everything and made him his bitch.
'Suck it, Marcus!'
"I haven't played since ever," Clementine said, which explained the look she gave the board when Ben set it up on one of the picnic tables- the focused, slightly suspicious look of someone intending to win a game they didn't understand yet.
'Oh, she's competitive. Good, it'd be fun to tear her to pieces. Hello, new Marcus.'
Duck immediately grabbed the dog token. Ben took the hat. Clementine deliberated for a long moment between the iron and the car, selected the car with the gravity of someone making a meaningful decision, and set it on the board. Clark took what was left, which was the thimble, and said nothing about it.
The first hour was mostly Ben explaining rules to Clementine and Duck simultaneously, which was its own kind of chaos since Duck kept interrupting to ask questions mid-sentence and Clementine kept asking questions that were technically off-topic but were actually the right questions to ask, and Ben, to his credit, answered all of them without losing patience, which elevated Clark's opinion of him slightly.
Clark turned out to be exactly as ruthless at Monopoly as he'd privately predicted.
By the end of the second hour, he owned the dark purples, the light blues, and had hotels going up on the oranges. Duck had gone bankrupt first, loudly, in the way™ Duck did everything, and had migrated to Kenny's lap to complain about it.
The man seemed to be happy with his son getting back his energy to be loud.
Ben was hanging on by the thread of his last two properties and a dwindling stack of cash that he kept reorganizing as if a different arrangement would change the math.
It wouldn't as he showed him in two turns and took everything.
Clementine was the problem.
She'd picked up the rules faster than anyone had a right to, and by the third hour she was making moves that weren't just lucky but were actually strategic, buying everything she landed on and quietly building a monopoly on the reds that Clark hadn't noticed until it was almost too late.
Almost.
He dismantled it methodically, the way he dismantled most things — not aggressively, just efficiently, trading and maneuvering until her cash started bleeding out one unlucky roll at a time. She fought back harder than Ben had, which he respected, and longer than he'd expected, which he respected even more. But the oranges were hotels now and the light blues weren't far behind, and eventually, inevitably, she landed on Vine Street with forty-three dollars to her name.
Clark looked at the rent.
Looked at her.
Then gave her the Cheshire grin. The full one. The one that Marcus used to threaten to rearrange his face over, reserved specifically for the moment when someone realized they'd lost before they'd admitted it.
Clementine stared at him.
"Don't." She said.
He said nothing. The grin did the work.
"You just got lucky because I'm new." She pushed the board slightly and crossed her arms, "That's literally the only reason."
"Sure," Clark said.
"It is!"
"I believe you."
"You don't."
"I absolutely do." The grin hadn't moved. Instead, it had grown, and she threatened to throw her last bill at his face if he didn't stop. He didn't, of course. Ryling up people in this game was- oh so much fun.
She turned away from him with the posture of someone who had decided the conversation was over, and the other person just didn't know it yet. Clark started collecting his hotels with the energy of a man who had won Monopoly and intended to enjoy every second of it, which he did, quietly, for the next four minutes while Ben packed up the board.
"We're not playing this game anymore." The taller teenager muttered.
"Wha- Yes, we will! I need a rematch!" Clementine voiced out, and Ben, being the target of her competitive glare, whimpered and nodded.
…
…
…
They played the next afternoon again, because Clementine wanted a rematch and Clark wasn't going to say no to that. Ben suggested Clue as a compromise and got ignored by both of them.
Duck had defected from the game entirely on the grounds that it wasn't fun when Clark was playing, which Clark considered high praise. Carley, Lee, and Mark had joined, only to leave soon after when Clark took their everything.
The rematch went longer. Clementine had clearly been thinking about it overnight, which he found genuinely impressive, and the first hour was closer than the first game had been. But the outcome was the same, and when it ended, Clementine dropped her forehead onto the table with a sound that was somewhere between frustration and a laugh.
It was the laugh that Clark noted. Small and slightly muffled by the table, but there.
He leaned back in his chair, satisfied, and stretched his arms above his head. The afternoon light was doing something warm across the parking lot. The fire was low but present.
Clementine lifted her head from the table, hair slightly mussed, and muttered something at the board that wasn't directed at him. Then she sat back too, and they were both just sitting, and Ben was packing up again, and Duck had long since abandoned them in favor of his mother, and the afternoon was quiet.
He wasn't sure when it happened.
One moment she was upright and the next she wasn't, her shoulder meeting his in a way of someone whose body had made a decision their brain hadn't caught up with yet. She had tipped sideways, leaning into him while mid-stretch, the way someone does when they're tired and comfortable and not thinking about it.
She was thinking about something Ben was saying to her, answering him absently, and her weight was just- there. Warm and present against his shoulder and arm.
Clark went very still.
Not visibly, he hoped. His face didn't move. He kept his eyes on the board, or where the board had been, because Ben was still packing it away. He kept his hands where they were. He kept his breathing even.
His Instincts, which had never once been confused about what constituted a threat, apparently had no guidance to offer on this particular situation, because it had gone completely quiet for the first time since he got it.
Ben finished packing the box and said something about dinner, their second meal of the day, and excused himself.
Clementine shifted back upright without seeming to notice what she'd done, continuing whatever train of thought Ben's departure had interrupted, and Clark nodded at something she said that he hadn't heard because approximately seventy percent of his processing had been occupied with not reacting to a shoulder lean.
It was a shoulder lean.
He had been alone for three months. He had been touched by exactly one person voluntarily in that time, and that was Carley's hug, which he had also not been prepared for and had needed a full second to process.
This was a shoulder lean. From the only girl around his age in possibly the entire Macon. In the middle of a parking lot. After losing Monopoly twice.
He filed it away very carefully and looked at the fire and said nothing about it.
It sat with him for the rest of the afternoon.
…
…
…
He was losing his mind.
Not in the dramatic way. Not the slow unraveling he'd worried about during the long weeks alone, when the inside quiet got loud, and he'd catch himself talking to the ghouls he was about to put down just to hear a voice, even his own. This was different. This was specific and targeted and had a name he refused to say, even internally.
It had been two days since the shoulder lean.
Two days of trying to compartmentalize in one of his mental cabinets so that he'd stop thinking about it. He'd even find himself talking to a raccoon as it guided him to a bush filled with berries. Just for that, the thief mascot animal wasn't turned into meat, but the same couldn't be said for a male deer that had run to him from the ghouls following it.
Safe to say, he killed all of them. Even the deer, but he made sure the deer didn't suffer by cutting its jugular vein in the neck. Heck, he'd even let it rest and follow him around to calm down from being chased by the ghouls before it.
Two days in which he had, in no particular order: told a joke at breakfast that wasn't funny enough to warrant the effort and watched Clementine not laugh at it; found an excuse to sit near her during the afternoon fire, and then didn't say anything because he'd used up his one social maneuver on the breakfast joke.
He was a seventeen-year-old boy in the middle of an apocalypse- he was right, he was eighteen now. He had bigger problems. He had several immediately verifiable bigger problems within a quarter mile in any direction. He had a group of people depending on him for food, bandits he was planning to dismantle, and a promise to Clementine about Savannah that he hadn't forgotten and intended to keep.
He did not have time for this.
His Cat Form agreed. In cat form, things were simpler. In cat form, the hierarchy of needs was: warm, fed, safe. Everything else was noise. He spent most of his mornings as a cat for exactly this reason, and it helped, until it didn't.
Because Clementine had started talking to the cat.
Not knowing it was him, obviously. She'd found him half a week into his stay at their group. He'd made the mistake of falling asleep in a patch of sun on the walkway outside his room, which was the kind of decision that made complete sense in cat form and made zero sense in retrospect.
She had crouched down three feet away from him with her hands on her knees, and her head tilted, a 'aww' sound coming from her.
He'd hissed.
She hadn't left.
"You're so cute… What are you doing here?" she'd said, to the hiss.
He'd hissed again for emphasis. His tail had done the low, irritated sweep. She'd watched it with the expression of someone who found this interesting rather than discouraging, which was the wrong response.
She reached out slowly- he bolted.
He'd made it to the end of the walkway and dropped off the railing onto the parking lot below before he'd consciously decided to move, four paws hitting the concrete with the particular dignity of a cat who had absolutely intended to do that and was not fleeing anything.
He'd stayed in human form for the rest of that day, ignoring the excited Duck rumbling about wanting a pet cat, and uncomfortably enough, Kenny considered eating him- the cat.
Which Carley, Clementine, and Duck immediately shut down.
The next morning, he'd made the same mistake. Different patches of sun in the early morning. Same walkway. Apparently, his cat instincts had opinions about good sun spots that overrode his better judgment completely.
She'd found him again.
This time, she sat down cross-legged at a careful distance and didn't reach for him. Just looked at him with those dark eyes that held a grudge in his human form for beating her at Monopoly and then taunting her afterwards, and apparently held something else entirely when directed at a small black cat that she didn't know was him.
He should have left.
He didn't leave as he spotted Carley looking at them from the top of the RV with a melancholic smile.
He sat in his sun patch and watched her back, and his tail did the slow, curious curl that he had no control over, and she watched the tail with a small smile that she didn't seem to know was there.
They sat like that for ten minutes before Katjaa called her for something, and she got up and left, and Clark stayed in his sun patch and stared at the middle distance for a while after.
He'd been doing the exact same thing every morning since.
He was not going to think about what that meant.
…
…
…
Which brought him here. He was forgetting to count the days now, but it was, maybe, a week after he joined and became the hunter for the group, standing outside Carley's motel room door at seven in the evening with his fist raised to knock with the expression of a man who had decided that this qualified as an emergency and was prepared to defend that position.
He knocked.
There was a pause that was slightly longer than it should have been, and then the door opened.
Carley was there. Lee was slightly behind her.
Clark registered this. Filed it. Noted the particular quality of the pause before the door opened, the way neither of them was quite where you'd expect a person to be standing if they'd been doing nothing in particular. He noted Carley's expression doing a fast, involuntary recalibration. He noted Lee's posture, which was the posture of a man who had just stepped back from somewhere he'd been.
He noted all of it, and then he set it aside, because he didn't actually care- it was a lie, he cared. But it wasn't an emergency. They were adults; they could do whatever they wanted as long as it was consensual.
"I need help," he said.
Carley blinked. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Is someone else hurt?"
"No."
She looked past him at the parking lot, checking, and when nothing was on fire or moving wrong, she looked back at him.
"Clark." Her voice shifted to the careful register. "What's wrong?"
"Something is wrong with me," he said. "Internally. Not physically. It's been…" He tried to remember, but his days were spent remembering moments that had nothing to do with survival, and so, they had blurred together- "days and it's getting worse, and I don't know what it is and I need you to tell me what it is."
Another blink. She stepped aside to let him in. Lee stayed where he was, which Clark appreciated, and took the chair by the window with the posture of a man who had decided to be very quiet and very still and see what happened.
Clark sat on the edge of the bed. Carley sat on the other end.
"Okay," she said. "Tell me."
"Something is wrong," Clark started, "with how I am around-" He stopped. "There's a specific situation. And in this specific situation, I am not operating at my normal capacity, which is a problem, because my normal capacity is what keeps me and everyone here fed and not dead."
Carley's expression was doing something that she was clearly working to keep neutral. "Okay. What's the situation?"
"There's a specific-" He stopped again. "There's a person. And when I am around this person, something in my chest does a thing that it does not do around other people, including you and Lee, and I want it to stop doing the thing, because the thing is distracting."
The silence that followed was very particular in quality.
Clark looked at Carley.
Carley looked at Clark.
Behind him, Lee made a sound that was very quiet and very controlled. Clark didn't turn around.
"What kind of thing," Carley said carefully, "does your chest do?"
"It hurts," Clark said- seeing Carley's semi-serious and semi-teasing fade immediately. "Like-" He pressed a hand flat against his sternum, demonstrating.
"Like there's too much pressure. And I notice things. Specific things. Like-" He stopped himself before he said the shoulder lean, because saying the shoulder lean out loud to Carley would mean acknowledging that the shoulder lean had been occupying the majority of his cognitive bandwidth for however long it was, and he wasn't ready to do that.
"Like their hair," he said instead, which was worse. Because he really liked her hair. They were dark brown, curly, and it was cut very unprofessionally, but it looked so good on her that he wanted to run a hand through it- this is why he didn't want to acknowledge the shoulder lean.
Carley's expression finished the journey it had been taking and arrived somewhere that was warm and careful and trying very hard not to be anything else.
"And I make bad decisions," Clark continued. "Like, I told a joke. At breakfast. That wasn't funny. It was embarrassing." He gestured at nothing. "I keep finding reasons to be in the same place, and then when I'm in the same place I don't say or do anything, which means the whole operation was pointless."
"Clark," Carley said.
"I need you to tell me what's wrong with me."
"Clark."
"Because I've felt something like this before, in normal life, and I know what it is, but it can't be that, because I've had a crush before, and it didn't feel like this, so it must be something else, something biological maybe, or maybe a side effect of-" his power he wanted to say. Because that made the most sense.
"Clark."
He stopped.
Carley's expression was gentle. Firmly, unmistakably gentle, the way it got when she had information she was about to deliver and had assessed that the delivery required care.
"It's a crush." She told him, and immediately, Clark shook his head. Because, again, this wasn't a crush. He wasn't denying it because he was immature and was embarrassed about it- maybe he was embarrassed just a tiny bit. But he wouldn't deny having a crush on someone.
This… thing, whatever it was that he was feeling for her, was dangerous, because it even silenced his Half Light's instincts. The whispers were calm and peaceful.
"It's not." He denied, again.
"Then you're in love, kid," Lee spoke up from his quiet corner of the room, giving him space. The L word made his world freeze, and he shivered, not in a good way. He would always daydream about finding his special someone, his other half, and how he'd move a mountain for her if he had asked. How he'd wanted what his parents had, that trust and care and everything that came with it, good and bad.
But now that he was faced with it, he was afraid. He was so, so afraid because he wasn't ready. So, his instincts, not Half Light, but the instinct that had awakened before his powers, the thing that made him survive alone, without his lottery powers, told him one single thing.
"I have to get out of here."
To run.
To never come back.
To not look back.
==========================
AN: YOYOYOYO
How was the new chapter?! The goal for this was simple: Show/build a connection with Lee since Carley wasn't the only one to save him. Build a connection with other members of the group, especially Clementine, cause it's been 12 chapters and the main love interest need to be presented and prepare both her and mc for a relationship in these times and situations.
But while all of that is good and all, I wanted to also tackle the main issue with Clark that I've been dropping, hinting, and foreshadowing since the beginning. His avoidance. Whenever he faces something he's not comfortable with or can't change, he avoids it with distraction or changes topic and forces himself to not think about it. And what better time than now? Before he has someone depending on him, not just for food but also for care and attention and much more.
That's also what's going to be the focus of chapter 14, which is already written.
I've made a system for myself that. As long as the latest chapter hasn't reached 100 likes, I shouldn't upload the chapter and instead rest. But it seems like I'm not doing it and instead stocking the chapters.
I blame FEAR TWD, cause I'm now on s2, ep3-4. And I freaking hate Chris, Travis's bio son. I hate him more than anyone else in the show currently. I want him to die so bad. Heck, I want to write a fanfic specifically of FEAR and beat the shit out of him during or after the grieving of his mom.
The fucking kid treats everything like the world hasn't ended. He's throwing himself a pity party and all. I'd kill him first thing first during the apocalypse just so that others can focus on survival and not worry about that shit of a character.
EDIT: I forgot to add tickets, from chapter 10 to 12. So, here they are, in order:
The following ticket is for when Lilly said no to Clark wanting to go hunt:
[Bronze Ticket Acquired.]
|Immovable Object — You held your ground against someone who had every reason to make you fold.|
After returning with the turkey and demanding an apology:
[Bronze Ticket Acquired.]
|Receipt — You made someone acknowledge what you gave before you gave more.|
After Lilly apologizes and Clark apologizes back:
[Bronze Ticket Acquired.]
|Olive Branch — You extended grace to someone who hadn't fully earned it.|
Chapter 11
After the early morning fire conversation with Lee:
[Bronze Ticket Acquired.]
|3 AM Honesty — You told the truth to someone who wasn't asking for it, because the moment was right.|
After the first Monopoly game, specifically when Clementine demands a rematch:
[Bronze Ticket Acquired.]
|Found The One — You made someone want to come back.|
Chapter 12
After Clark goes to Carley's room and describes his needing of help:
[Bronze Ticket Acquired.]
|Voluntary — You asked for help without being cornered into it. First time.|
Here they are. You guys have the chance to deny or add more based on if he deserves these or not!
So, please let me know. If he deserves it all, should we combine them into a silver one cause they are all bronze?
Please, let me know.