And sooner than she would have liked (okay, she was just hoping to avoid awkwardness and all of that which wasn't possible), Clara had only been finishing up the fish fingers and custard instead of being finished. It was all very precarious. Oh well, not much she could do on that fact. Instead she just made sure it was set then turned to face Troy, plate ready and handed out to him.
"Peace offering?"
She wasn't glaring, she wasn't tense, coiled and ready to strike as she had been for the entire week. She was shifting awkwardly because she knew she had been horrid. She didn't even know where most of the things she said had come from. There was some annoyance at being misinterpreted Troy holding onto that, but this hadn't been the first time she'd said as much. But it seemed more than anything, one small thing had been able to set off some tirade and attack and that she would just find words and go from those and move on without thought.
It was rather terrifying, really. It wasn't that Clara was always happy or whatever, but feeling that much anger and aggression was just exhausting to her.