Claire wanted to jerk free. She wanted to cut and run, as fast and as far away as she could possibly get in this place, and deal with this....situation the only way she knew how- by herself. Hell, over the last few months, how many times had she dealt with flashes of very self-destructive thoughts fighting with instincts and deep-seeded morals she couldn't shake? When she determined it might be a baby instead of a stomach bug, she stopped drinking cold turkey- but for weeks the only thing she wanted to do was drink herself into a coma. And those thoughts hadn't completely gone away, either- but she'd never been able to bring herself to do it.
No- she had nowhere to run, and that only terrified her even more. So his hands may as well have been chains around her neck, anchored into the floor. Claire wanted to run, but she just couldn't. And all of that was clear as broken glass in her eyes. They kept wanting to harden and lie to him, keep him away, but her resolve could never get a foothold.
"Don't- don't do that. Don't look at me that way," she managed to huff, then consciously clamped down on the inside of her cheek with her teeth, trying to reset her thoughts.
"Yes- okay? I am- now if you could not tell anyone, that'd be fucking awesome." While she spoke, she firmly removed his hands from her shoulders and slid past him, towel and all, fully intent on the door.