There was something about his dull, lulling voice that settled her nerves and enabled her to stay seated. Lowering head head to avoid his gaze, she couldn't admit how perverse it might have been that she preferred to keep her eyes closed and focus on his voice only. "I guess.." Merope parroted him. Pallid digits moved from her sides to the dark, yet soft, broadcloth skirts and tightened her delicate palms around the fabric out of habit.
Upon his recollection of how she must have been forced into a living situation that didn't seem permanent, she spoke again,"It doesn't matter, really." A defeated sigh passed through her mouth, it bothered her to know that even her own son didn't like her. A palm moved her face, the edge of her palm rubbing her right eye in case she felt tears wanting to fill her eyes again, she found nothing of course and replaced her thin digits on the comforting fabric.
"I don't like Muggles, Mister Severus. They make me sick.." Which meant that she made herself sick, she slept with Tom and the moment seemed lost due to her not really saying anything else. Merope thought that she must be the most hated girl alive, even this man in front of her probably had some reason to detest her. It appeared that Severus didn't need to say any snide comments as her mind was doing the work for him. Merope's shame came so heavy that she could hardly stand herself, hated herself for loving Tom.
"I..I..should maybe go.." Although she said it out loud, she didn't slip off the table to slink away just yet. Perhaps it was a reminder that she shouldn't stay out or something, it seemed rather random.