[ The fabric is scratchy, a little itchy, where it rubs up against the side of her neck while she straightens up and then folds back in on herself, pinching her fingers down the length of the scarf as it hangs down over her shoulders and then curling her hands over the edge of the counter, holding on. Her heel makes a little thumping sound every time she lets it swing back too far, which seems overly loud in the silence that passes for several seconds following his voice filling the kitchen.

Eventually the flesh of her cheek finds its way between her teeth again, not so hard this time, and Claire nods. ]

You haven't been an asshole about this. [ Being terrible at wanting anything doesn't make him any less deserving of it, regardless of how bad or good he is at it in its entirety or what it is that he wants. She decides to be upfront anyway. ] I don't need you around. That doesn't mean I want you to fuck off. I do want you around. I always want you around, even when it's awkward.