After several heartbeats in her throat, Claire heard the sound of footsteps. A pause. Must’ve been using the peephole, not that shoe could blame him. The click of the door opening made her straighten and she suddenly wished she’d bothered to comb her hair. It had that unkempt, tussled look to it most of the time, a reflection of her hectic life and the fact that she simply didn’t care most of the time. Fortunately she wore it well. But the importance of first impressions had been drilled into her head and she felt a twinge of guilt at her impropriety.
As the door opened and part of the man appeared through the crack, Claire eyed him up and down, somehow not quite sure why he was different than what she’d expected since she had no expectations. Younger maybe? Shaking her head to clear it, she cocked an eyebrow at him, her default snark overriding her anxiety for the moment. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, love,” she said, ghost of a smile quirking half her mouth upright. And an eyeful. But she only thought that last bit; there were few things in her that weren’t predatory but that didn’t mean everyone had to know it. What was life without a few surprises?
Surprises like blood diseases. The thought sobered her up and the sass drained out of her. She rubbed an arm with one hand and let out a quick sigh. “Mohinder. The doctor, yeah? I hear you work with special people.” Her profession and natural inclination toward suspicion had taught Claire not to give any information away, any hints, without being absolutely sure of the identity of the person she was talking to. It had come back to haunt her more than once, shame on her.
“Is that true?”