Clarke is up to her elbows in paint when Molly texts. It takes a moment for her to sufficiently wipe the paint off her fingers before she can answer back in the affirmative. Even then, some still sticks to the screen. While she waits for her friend to arrive, she tends to fall back into the mindless whirl of colors, her only concession is to lower the volume of the stereo in the meantime.

Kicking it off an entirely with an elbow at the knock on the door, her mind is almost blissfully blank as she opens the door. A smudge of paint is on her cheek as she preemptively smiles at her friend.

"Hey, sort of stranger," she greets as she opens the door.