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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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. ]