[ Oh god, don't look at her. She's aware of the two high points of blotchy red smearing across her cheeks like streaked paint, trailing all the way back over the shells of her ears and down the tendons of her neck. At least, that's where the heat is concentrated, flaring to life on a pulse point and then eventually subsiding. Claire is pretty sure her eyes are red, but not as badly as they've been in the past.

Emotional outbursts at sixteen were probably healthier than bottling at nineteen, though. Or however old she is now. After being lost in the dark and surfacing this disorienting amount of time later, Claire can't actually say with certainty where on the time line she is.

Like it matters anyway.]

I'm not. [ Her voice is a little more bitter than she would like or intend and still thick with the frustrated threat of a dam falling down somewhere, but she at least sounds a little less resigned. ] I mean, yeah. If you need someone to keep it together after being harassed by a psycho killer, I'm your girl. [ Thumbs to chest, then she folds her arms again. ] It's all second verse, same as the first. The only reason I'm not - I'm used to this. This is my life, but now in space. That doesn't mean I know how to do anything any better than anyone else just based on experience, or that I'm actually good at it. I think Darcy is handling whatever she saw down there better. [ Not to discredit Darcy as a strong girl, but Claire tends to think of herself as the unbreakable one and everyone else as fragile teacups that need to be handled delicately. ] Not dealing with it, pushing people away, keeping my distance. I can come up with whatever reason sounds good or makes sense, but I told you like months ago that you didn't get to do that, and now I'm doing it and I know I'm doing it. But I'm not trying to do anything differently, and it shouldn't be like that.