[Iris had just started to recover from the strange confusion of him calling her his friend when his anger set in. Gaze still tipped up to meet his, she froze at the hard edge to his expression, and if she wasn't exactly scared of him, she was a little bit scared in general (of a man with a hard voice, command in his posture). But then he was moving, gesturing toward the expanse of the room they stood in, and it broke what held her still. She bit hard at her lip, already abused by the care she wasn't taking of herself, and she winced at the sting of skin splitting. She looked at him, watched him, and then shook her head so slightly as she dropped her gaze back down to the floor.]
I can't forget. There have been... [She was quiet, but she'd reached the point where the words wouldn't stop spilling out.] The gossiping always hurts someone. People will start talking - about me - and everything will end up wrong. I don't want you to get... I don't want that to happen to you. [And maybe she didn't quite know how to use the word 'friend', but the feeling was there.]