In her world, she has to be a certain way all the time. Sometimes she could be more open with Luke (he'd ask if she was okay, he'd comment on how she watched Carver's face get beaten in with a crowbar without flinching), but Luke is dead. She has to be useful and survive and push forward. There's no room for her to not have her shit together, because it means dying. It means someone else dying. People aren't kind. They're hard and weathered like she is, and she locks it all down tight to stay alive. Reaching out to someone else means admitting need, which she can't afford.
She forces herself back together uneasily, and she looks up at Klaus again.
"Yeah. It- it is. It's all right." People care. People are kind here. He was kind to her. He understood, and it means something he'd even think to stop by when they only talked the once. "You can come in."
She steps back then, moving back to the bed as her hand fists tightly in some of the mass of blankets. "I was sent home, and I got shot."
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In her world, she has to be a certain way all the time. Sometimes she could be more open with Luke (he'd ask if she was okay, he'd comment on how she watched Carver's face get beaten in with a crowbar without flinching), but Luke is dead. She has to be useful and survive and push forward. There's no room for her to not have her shit together, because it means dying. It means someone else dying. People aren't kind. They're hard and weathered like she is, and she locks it all down tight to stay alive. Reaching out to someone else means admitting need, which she can't afford.
She forces herself back together uneasily, and she looks up at Klaus again.
"Yeah. It- it is. It's all right." People care. People are kind here. He was kind to her. He understood, and it means something he'd even think to stop by when they only talked the once. "You can come in."
She steps back then, moving back to the bed as her hand fists tightly in some of the mass of blankets. "I was sent home, and I got shot."