[All that, everything he says -- and he doesn't say much - makes her draw up short. Something happens, she can tell; her end of the bargain -- get them out of Mount Weather -- might have held true, but there have been consequences. She suspected that, anyway.

She pushes herself away from the edge of the table for a moment, in some attempt to maybe reach out and offer him comfort. A second later, she changes her mind. You made a good choice.

Wasn't looking for his approval, but she can accept it and let it smooth out some edges. Her selfishness no longer feels like betrayal, like that. (Of course Bellamy would get it. He'd do the same thing for Octavia - he'd do anything for Octavia, then again.)]

Do you want to eat something? [It gets blurted out, non sequitur. She's not going to press hard now, but she will. Eventually.] I'm not a cook, but there's leftovers of yesterday's takeout and you can probably use it.

[Too bad if the answer is no because she's already digging through her fridge, hope you like reheated lasagna.]