NATURAL SELECTION.

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THE DOZEN.
xxvii. NATURAL SELECTION

 NATURAL SELECTION

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          LUCAS WAS BORED. Really, it was a privilege, but he didn't care. It didn't matter to him that he was so safe he could be bored - it just mattered that he was at a loss of what to do. Anybody else would probably find themselves in the lobby, mingling and blending in like a fly on the wall. That, or maybe taking on a job assignment just to keep themselves occupied. But Lucas wanted neither of those things. Spending the rest of his days doing meaningless chores sounded way too monotonous, and trying to fit in with the crowd just sounded gross. 

The thing about that, though, was that he'd often catch himself wanting to fit in. He stood beside people like Parker and the late Jasper, who were just so magnetic without even trying, and would find himself wanting to be just as electric. To talk to whoever he wanted to without the crippling fear of rejection.

But then he reminded himself that people were just wastes of time. His own family vanished, collapsed under the weight of a cancer-ridden child, so who else could he possibly depend on? The only person in the world he didn't completely hate was Clara, and that was doubtful in and of itself. Adelaide was okay, too, he thought; she just tried too hard to be everyone's morality gauge. But, overall, she was tolerable.

Clara, on the other hand... Sometimes, she was the most intolerable person on the planet. She could be rather whiny, but at the same time quite bossy and demanding. It almost seemed like she wanted to be that way, just to challenge his own way of thinking. It was maddening. Other times, however, he almost felt for her (which was immeasurably confusing, in and of itself.) She did have just the one friend and lost him just as quickly as she gained him. As much as Lucas made fun of her for it, he did have an acknowledgment that it must've really sucked for her when Nicholas died.

But Nicholas' death sucked for him, too. He'd yet to cry about it.

He found himself outside of her door, stuck in the civil war between not wanting to speak to her and only wanting to speak to her (for they were most familiar with each other, like it or not.) The door was just barely cracked open, so he took it upon himself to just enter. The worst she would do is just yell at him.

Clara, who was in the process of sorting through supplies and placing a few in a backpack, looked over her shoulder. The second she saw who it was that entered, her eyes narrowed and she let out a heavy, burdened sigh. "Knock much?" she huffed.

"The door was open, so I just assumed that was an invitation," Lucas countered, closing the door behind him. The moment it clicked shut, he took a few strides forward, leaning his weight back against the table she was standing at. The moment he slid into her peripheral vision, she rolled her eyes. "What's got you so pissed off?" he inquired, crossing his arms over his chest.

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