#swau

It takes several long, slow blips, but eventually a familiar image appears. Etched in blue lines and smiling that ever-charming smile, Clarke's face appears over Lexa's holodisk. Immediately, Lexa finds her lips pulling into a smile of their own.

"Hey, cutie," Clarke quips. "Miss me?"

"Of course," Lexa replies. A little of the exhaustion of the day melts away as the words leave her lips. "Did you miss me?"

"More than I care to admit."

She grins that grin and Lexa instantly, inexorably wants to kiss her—but she's a tiny holo, so she must content herself with draping one leg over the other and saying, "Want to admit it anyway?"

"I'd like to do quite a lot more than admit it." Clarke smirks, and Lexa's stomach flips. Four years later, and it feels like new, every time. "But you keep managing to find some new assignment every time I think you'll have time to play hookey."

"Me?" Lexa repeats. She palms the holodisk and spins idly in her chair. "You're the one who's been mysteriously galavanting about the Outer Rim."

Clarke chuckles. "You know I'd prefer to tell you all about my galavanting. I'm sure you'd find it very dashing and sexy. You're the one who decided we shouldn't tell each other what we're up to."

"I didn't mean we shouldn't tell each other anything, only that there are some things…" Lexa sighs. "There are some things it may be better that I don't know."

"And that I don't know, you mean." Clarke sighs right back.

Silence reigns for a few moments. There are many aspects of Lexa's life that she cannot, or at least should not, openly share with anyone outside of the Jedi Order. There is also every reason to limit the amount of information Lexa knows about Clarke's activities; Jedi do not explicitly condemn bounty hunting, but they do not particularly approve, either. The less Lexa knows of Clarke's bounties and less-than-legal activities, the better.

It's an old conversation; a debate they've been over again and again and again, and yet every time it ends the same. And it never gets easier.

"How's the kid?" Clarke asks, pivoting to a topic they both uncomplicatedly enjoy. "Is he enjoying all the schmoozing?"

"You know, he used that word earlier today."

Holos very rarely succeed in capturing anything other than the person in front of them. Nevertheless, Lexa finds herself standing and wandering towards the long windows on the opposite side of the hotel bed. "He accused us of merely standing by while the politicians schmooze, and then blamed the word on you."

A familiar chuckle filters through the holo's speakers. "Worried I'm rubbing off on him?"

"A little, if I'm honest. I can't have my nascent Jedi acting like a bounty hunter. Can you see this?"

She unlatches the small door hidden in the transparisteel window and steps out onto the corner of their private terrace, and spins the holodisc so its camera faces the view. Beneath them, Canto Bight pulses with music and light, as though the very buildings were living, breathing, partying things.

"Wow." Clarke whistles. "That's gorgeous!"

"Hard to argue with that."

"And so blue. They let just anyone into those rooms?"

"Believe it or not, Jedi usually do not sleep in cargo holds."

"Oh, please. You haven't slept in the cargo hold in years."

"I slept there the last time we were together!"

"Because you brought the kid with you! It's not my fault you're such a prude, I'm sure he'd be perfectly happy having the hold to himself—"

"Okay, okay!" Lexa chuckles and turns the camera back to face herself. "Let's save the 'your Jedi Code is annoying and archaic' argument for next time, shall we?"

Clarke sighs dramatically. "I suppose, if you insist."

There's a pause as Clarke's lips slowly turn up in a smile, and Lexa's heart lightens and feels like it might just balloon up her throat and evaporate into the air—when Clarke says: "You know I couldn't actually see anything, right?"

"I got that from the 'rooms' comment." Lexa leans her forearms on the viewrail. "I was showing you the view. But it was nice of you to pretend."

"It was nice of you to try."

Lexa shrugs a shoulder. "I want so badly to share this with you. It is beautiful. A bit amoral, I think, but you'd love it."

"Beautiful and amoral, huh?" Clarke pushes her hair behind her ear. Lexa finds herself tracking the movement, wishing it were her own fingers making it. "Sounds like someone I know."