"Write something that takes place in a high school history class."
"I am become death; destroyer of the world." Clarke let the words hang in the air, observing the cloud of dust booming into the air. Raven's bomb. "It's Oppenheimer," she informed, being met by Bellamy's silence. "The man who built the first-"
"I know who Oppenheimer is," Bellamy interrupted with a smug smile on his face, feeling the need to reassert his history knowledge. He glanced back at Clarke, who had reverted her eyes to the cloud; the conversation sounding all too familiar.
Bellamy had excelled at history amongst all things. That usually meant spending half an hour after class, alone in his history class, hunched over a textbook. Mr Thompson usually let him anyway. Didn't mind finding notes sprawled across the whiteboard, as long as he left the room in a neat condition. Bellamy's sessions usually involved absorbing all the facts, all the stories he could tell Octavia that night. Stories of Augustus and Octavia just weren't going to cut it now.
When the alarm screamed 16:30, he scrambled to his feet and began to put away his things.
"Erm, excuse me?" a voice called from the door. "Have you seen Mr. Thompson?" Bellamy looked up to find a blonde, dressed in blue, hover by the door. He shook his head and put on his back pack.
"But he should be coming back from a meeting in about ten minutes," he said, watching the blonde throw her head back, clearly annoyed by the new found information. She sighed under her breath and seated herself, muttering something along the lines of "it wasn't even my fault" "Well's is the one who insisted on watching Star Wars" "as if I even had a choice."
Bellamy frowned at her confusing words, and made his way towards the door. Glancing over the words on her page, he said, "Hey, that's Oppenheimer." He glanced back up at her confused face. "Oppenheimer? I am become death; destroyer of the world?" She continued to blink blankly at him.
He reached over to her page, tapping the third question on her sheet. "The answers Oppenheimer," he whispered. "He's the man who built the first nuclear weapon during the Grounder's Second World War."
"Oh," she said, leaning back. She nodded as she wrote the answer down. "Thanks,-"
"Bellamy," he interrupted, pushing himself off the table. "You're welcome, Princess," he said, as he closed the door.
"Actually, it's Clarke!" he heard her call through the door.