[ Her kneejerk reaction now is to fish her comm out from under the pillow where it has ended up and power up the network to distribute passive aggressive and bratty comments to anyone who thinks setting up a Christmas party in the wake of what has happened is a good idea, but it seems like more trouble than it's worth. In some ways, Claire feels like she's growing as a person, in that respect. In other ways, she feels like the rewards for being more detached regarding situations like that vastly outweigh the satisfaction derived from saying anything at all; namely, less time spent wallowing in frustration and more spent in a dark cocoon that smells vaguely like shampoo.

A little of the pale light from the room creeps in via the gap between blanket and pillow letting cool air in, and Claire uses that as a guide to trace her eye and then her thumb across the thin skin showing dark blood vessels underneath the red bloom of his sclera. At the mention of William and what follows, she pulls back a bit. ]

Probably stay in isolation for a while, just for starters. It wasn't anything he did on purpose, right? [ Her tone doesn't show any anger, maybe some tired resignation, but even if he didn't mean to hurt anyone, he did, in a sense. It's something that needs to be considered. ] What did you see down there?