For a second, Claire was scared. Scared enough that she faltered, but not scared enough to make herself a liar. She dropped her hand and put it in her pocket, staying where she was and just watching him for a second.
"I'm sorry," she stated simply, feeling that for causing him that much emotion, she owed him that.
There was anger based on anger alone, and there was anger based on fear. Claire saw the big, glaring difference in that Pike hadn't hurt her. She had no illusions about the fact that he could kill her six times before she even knew what had hit her. And if he were as bad as he seemed to want her to think he was, he probably would have. But he hadn't. And that said something. She planned her next move carefully, deciding to grab for a nearby chair and sit down. Looking up at him, eyes still apologetic, she bit her lip.
"I meant what I said, though," she told him softly, clasping her hands and putting them in her lap as she looked up at him, still hopeful that she hadn't screwed up too royally here. "I'm not afraid of you, even if you are."
Maybe she should have been. Maybe his anger at her should have scared her out of her mind. But it didn't. If he'd wanted to hurt her, she had no doubt that he'd have done it already. And he'd expressed more than just once that he didn't. She still kept her eyes locked on his, gauging any reaction he had.