*Sitting in the corner of the room facing away from Isaac* *Making weird noises*
Clarke: *looks over at me* Hmm?
*Making baby noises* HUUUUUUUUU
Clarke: Are you dying or, something..?
Clarke: Maybe? Tori, are you okay?
Clarke: I'm sorry? Hmm?
*Strange as fuq outburst* WHY DO I KEEP THINKING OF FRED FLINTSTONE ON THE TOILET AAAAAAARRRRGGGHH
Clarke: OH MY GOD, WHAT.