Clarke watches Gideon's mouth move in a quiet aside to herself, words formed that don't seem entirely kind but that she can't quite hear. Mostly she just really can't get over this facepaint — it borders on the creepy distortion of human features intermingled with a morbid sense of anonymity. We all look the same when we die meets a mask is a mask meets I fucking hate clowns and this is not dissimilar. But still it utterly fascinates...

"...none that are commercially produced. Are you new?"