[ Almost on a reflex, Claire narrows her eyes, somewhat annoyed at this stall in her grand, dramatic reveal. At the same time, it does kind of throw into sharp relief how absurd the request and subsequent display sound, but Gretchen had gone for it, and Zach had nearly shit himself when she showed him. For a moment, Claire thinks about just stabbing herself with the pencil but doesn't want to ruin the map with blood. ]
You aren't my teacher. [ Which she realizes is beside the point and a petulant response, but she doesn't care all that much. ] I'll be fine. And I'm not gonna stab you, for the record, just in case it crossed your mind.
[ That's basically the gist of it, without the fanfare. Claire doesn't add that she's done it practically a thousand times before. ]
[ Severus gives her a look right back. Her teacher or not, he doesn't make a habit of enabling people to do harmful things. Not like this, anyway, it's too much of what people expect of him and he can't. She doesn't know that, of course she doesn't, but he thinks maybe more people should react this way to 'give me something to slice a person up with'.
Because that is definitely what her grave intonation meant, alright, he's not dumb.
Another silence happens. Eventually, with a small exhale, Severus reaches out and takes the pencil back. He turns it in his fingers, and it becomes an xacto-knife, which he passes over to her handle-first. The blade is tiny, but functional. ]
[ Rather than make a show of it, rather than present it in any capacity the way that she has in the past, Claire snatches the knife up in delicately, the weight of it in her hand probably more familiar than anyone should rightfully be comfortable with. Whether to placate him or otherwise, she makes no move toward her normal flourish, doesn't cut the blade - no matter how tiny - firmly down the center of her hand, slicing through tendon and skin and looking for bone.
Rather, she spends a moment looking at him, the slant of her eyes frustrated and cagey and caught up. She should press the tips of her fingers against the tiny apex and slash across the pads just to prove a point but something in her falters, and she's not unsure or second guessing herself even if she can't put an unbloodied thumb on what it is that gives her pause. It's a long moment before she moves or even breathes, never mind saying anything. Instead, she just stares at him, confused and annoyed and breathless despite not having actually done anything.
Eventually, Claire turns the knife in her own hand, offering it back to him. ]
When the moment's over and she hands it back, tells him that, understanding crystallizes. She was going to give him a practical demonstration, cut her skin open or slice a finger off to prove it and-- something in him becomes inexplicably angry, far away and undetected, that this young woman has conditioned herself to think that she needs to put herself on display like a circus side-show to embrace her own identity. ]
So you are heat-resistant.
[ The pencil is once again a pencil in his hand. Severus isn't really making a joke; his tone is subdued. He believes her.
[ The slow burning flame of irritation begins to flicker and fade out, fanning into embers as she plucks the pencil back from him and procures a blank piece of paper to scratch doodles out on. It only occurs to her how ironic it is that the very first thing she ever survived is the one thing he believed her to be for so long. Some part of Claire aches for Meredith, thinking about that. ]
There's a lot more to it than that, but, yeah. I guess so.
[ How do you begin to scratch the surface of being unable to feel anything to distinguish you from existing like nothing more than a wraith and being a verifiable flesh and soul person? No matter how much she comes to accept what and who she is, that's something she still can't reconcile, something she is eternally - quite literally, probably, and that's another matter unto itself entirely - going to be resentful for. Peter can stand shoulder to shoulder in forgiveness with the man who stalked her across the country and killed the people that she loved, but Claire doesn't possess that capacity, and she would kill him again if given the chance.
She's not even going to scratch the surface in her own mind about what has just transpired here and what it means to her that he reacted that way. For now she's more comfortable simmering, never mind that it's a misdirected fuming. ]
[ All right. That was probably enough of a tense moment for today. Severus is fine with her simmering anger, because it's an emotion he's familiar with, both experiencing and inciting. He can accept that from her graciously and tolerate it without being offended or hurt. In the face of being unable to be comforting or otherwise helpful, perhaps that'll be enough.
[ She just blinks at him some more, feeling her features rearrange themselves across her face in way that she can't recognize from her vantage point but which strangely feels like relief and suspicion all at once. ]
[ --Wait what. Severus looks back up at her, slightly puzzled. ]
... Yes. [ That word almost-but-not-quite goes up at the end. It takes him a moment to formulate what to say, and when he does it's a little stilted, because he isn't used to articulating things of this nature. ] Whatever's gone on to make you so guarded about, clearly it's not insignificant and I won't dismiss it. But as yourself, to me, it's fine.
[ There's a list a mile long and twice as wide but Claire doesn't expand upon it. Instead, she picks up the pencil again and taps the eraser on the tabletop. She'd like to warn him otherwise, but all she can gather up the conviction to say is: ]
Okay.
[ She knows she's being awkward, and she has to try very hard not to just openly stare at him, but she hopes the amount of gratitude she begins to feel is at least able to be absorbed by some kind of osmosis. ]
[ Where her irritation was normal, her gratitude makes him slightly uncomfortable. What is there to be grateful about? 'Not being terrified' is a pretty small thing, and honestly the least he could be doing.
The regard people have for him here is ill-deserved, and he knows it. If she knew him for what he really is, she'd hate him, and it has nothing to do with abilities or genetics. He looks away from her gaze after a short nod.
[ Being terrified isn't something that she's experienced so much from other people as she has from herself. Claire can still remember what it was like to figure out what she could do initially, from the first cloying breath she tried to take, feeling like she was drowning in her discovery. Zach had been freaked out in his own way. Gretchen, eventually, even if for other reasons. Alex. West. It never mattered if there was a level of abject horror; there was always some kind of response she wasn't looking for but anticipated getting. She doesn't want to set him apart from the rest - that's asking a lot - but she can't help but appreciate his response.
It's fine. It's rarely been fine. ]
How's the sandwich?
[ Maybe she would hate him, if she knew. It would definitely mean reevaluating a lot of her own convictions. But that's neither here nor there. She doesn't know. What she knows is they're here, now. ]
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You aren't my teacher. [ Which she realizes is beside the point and a petulant response, but she doesn't care all that much. ] I'll be fine. And I'm not gonna stab you, for the record, just in case it crossed your mind.
[ That's basically the gist of it, without the fanfare. Claire doesn't add that she's done it practically a thousand times before. ]
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Because that is definitely what her grave intonation meant, alright, he's not dumb.
Another silence happens. Eventually, with a small exhale, Severus reaches out and takes the pencil back. He turns it in his fingers, and it becomes an xacto-knife, which he passes over to her handle-first. The blade is tiny, but functional. ]
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Rather, she spends a moment looking at him, the slant of her eyes frustrated and cagey and caught up. She should press the tips of her fingers against the tiny apex and slash across the pads just to prove a point but something in her falters, and she's not unsure or second guessing herself even if she can't put an unbloodied thumb on what it is that gives her pause. It's a long moment before she moves or even breathes, never mind saying anything. Instead, she just stares at him, confused and annoyed and breathless despite not having actually done anything.
Eventually, Claire turns the knife in her own hand, offering it back to him. ]
I heal.
[ That's it. He can have it back now. ]
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When the moment's over and she hands it back, tells him that, understanding crystallizes. She was going to give him a practical demonstration, cut her skin open or slice a finger off to prove it and-- something in him becomes inexplicably angry, far away and undetected, that this young woman has conditioned herself to think that she needs to put herself on display like a circus side-show to embrace her own identity. ]
So you are heat-resistant.
[ The pencil is once again a pencil in his hand. Severus isn't really making a joke; his tone is subdued. He believes her.
He doesn't want to see her bleed. ]
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There's a lot more to it than that, but, yeah. I guess so.
[ How do you begin to scratch the surface of being unable to feel anything to distinguish you from existing like nothing more than a wraith and being a verifiable flesh and soul person? No matter how much she comes to accept what and who she is, that's something she still can't reconcile, something she is eternally - quite literally, probably, and that's another matter unto itself entirely - going to be resentful for. Peter can stand shoulder to shoulder in forgiveness with the man who stalked her across the country and killed the people that she loved, but Claire doesn't possess that capacity, and she would kill him again if given the chance.
She's not even going to scratch the surface in her own mind about what has just transpired here and what it means to her that he reacted that way. For now she's more comfortable simmering, never mind that it's a misdirected fuming. ]
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[ All right. That was probably enough of a tense moment for today. Severus is fine with her simmering anger, because it's an emotion he's familiar with, both experiencing and inciting. He can accept that from her graciously and tolerate it without being offended or hurt. In the face of being unable to be comforting or otherwise helpful, perhaps that'll be enough.
He's going to each this sandwich now. ]
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All right. That's it?
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... Yes. [ That word almost-but-not-quite goes up at the end. It takes him a moment to formulate what to say, and when he does it's a little stilted, because he isn't used to articulating things of this nature. ] Whatever's gone on to make you so guarded about, clearly it's not insignificant and I won't dismiss it. But as yourself, to me, it's fine.
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Okay.
[ She knows she's being awkward, and she has to try very hard not to just openly stare at him, but she hopes the amount of gratitude she begins to feel is at least able to be absorbed by some kind of osmosis. ]
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The regard people have for him here is ill-deserved, and he knows it. If she knew him for what he really is, she'd hate him, and it has nothing to do with abilities or genetics. He looks away from her gaze after a short nod.
Okay. ]
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It's fine. It's rarely been fine. ]
How's the sandwich?
[ Maybe she would hate him, if she knew. It would definitely mean reevaluating a lot of her own convictions. But that's neither here nor there. She doesn't know. What she knows is they're here, now. ]
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[ Dude. ]
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[ From the half still resting on the paper, Claire steals a little torn square of sandwich and eats it. ]