heâs insufferable. octaviaâs SICK of people bossing her around in some screwed up attempt to keep her safe, intentions be damned. âlook AROUND, murphy!â she gestured with one arm to their peers lying around them, covered in blood and dirt and sweat and quite possibly on deathâs door. âif i was going to get it iâd be coughing up blood on the ground already.âÂ
    since sheâs apparently lucky enough to be immune to the virus, she should be able to take advantage of that to HELP the others, the people she cared about.Â
          but arguing with murphy wasnât going to help any of them, either, and a heavy sigh of frustration concedes her defeat.Â
    âfine.â sheâs almost able to face him without flinching, now; but even when she tries to scowl, she canât help but notice his wounds. his skin is more bloody and bruised than not, leaving him nearly unrecognizable to someone who didnât know him as well as she did. the thought of what heâd been through nearly made her nauseous, left her head spinning. her posture softened, just a little, shoulders dropping and hands falling to her sides.
    sheâs not wrong, and he hates it. the more she brings up her immunity to the cesspool of teenagers, the stronger her argument feels: itâs been a few hours. even clarke could only hold her own for so long, and after the princess had fallen, no one else came in with a case.
     he goes back to clean the floor, helping the kid whoâd made it move away, but not without catching that little stare she gives him. the one that only draws on top of how weak he looks.Â
but it's difficult to keep his mind on clean-up when it was running amok with pain & fear & anger and the drilling voices of everyone like do we kill him? do we take him back? what are the grounders gonna do? why'd he have to come back? and all murphy can think is I DONâT KNOW, I DONâT KNOW, I WAS SCARED AND I WAS GOING TO DIE, I DONâT KNOW â
    heâs swaying on the balls of his feet from the force heâs using to scrape up the liquid, but heâs clutching the cloth too hard and he feels her eyes on him and heâs not really cleaning anything up so much as he is distributing it across the floor. a build-up of frustration huffs out past his lips before he returns octaviaâs stare.  âwhatâs wrong â feel bad for me?â