Claire offered a tiny smile at his polite half-refusal of her thanks. So many people in the city were lacking in manners…probably coffee drinkers…and his politeness was both amusing and refreshing. It reminded her of her brother, and the familiarity might be of comfort, especially if she was to trust him in the coming days.
‘Coming days.’ The timetable made her bite her lower lip as she thought. She hadn’t expected anything instant, but two weeks still seemed almost impossibly fast to cure a lifetime of woes, even if it was on the short end of the time frame. Two weeks, and she’d hopefully never have to worry about losing control of her own body; of waking up, weakened, with a trail of mental bloody breadcrumbs to trace back, ones that never lead anywhere pleasant. Only a short two weeks, and life as she knew it would be turned upside down: for the better, for once. Claire allowed a little hope to bubble inside her. If the stories the others had told her were true, if his confidence wasn’t misplaced, this could easily be the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Taking another drink of her tea, Claire eventually nodded. “If it’d help things and isn’t an imposition, it would certainly save me the walk. I’d have to get my things, of course….” She let the sentence trail off, her mind immediately flying to the possessions she’d need that were scattered around her apartment: clothes, toothbrush, shampoo, knives, her own little 'serums’…sensitive information would have to be locked up if she was to be gone for any length of time. She’d need her second phone in case any contracts needed to be made, though she doubted she could take any during this whole process. He’d said the testing wouldn’t hurt her, but she wasn’t entirely sure he was right or that there wouldn’t be other inconvenient side effects. Even simple dizziness would hamper her ability to work, or possibly get her killed.
The way he explained the process seemed simple enough, a fact for which she was grateful. Mohinder seemed to know what he was doing and was open to questions; that, more than his words, reassured her. William was the scientific, plotting mind, and while Claire was certainly intelligent, she only knew the makings of her own poisons. Not chemistry for curing people. Then again, that was why she was here.
Still standing, she shook her head, firm but polite. “I’ll take the tour, but please, let me make breakfast, it’s the least I can do. I’ve gotten quite good at cooking these days.” Growing up, the culinary arts were not one that Claire had needed, let alone mastered. That’s what the help was for. Being on the run, however, like she and William were…it didn’t allow the luxury of keeping a chef. So she’d had to learn to cook, and in the last few months as she grew less and less inclined to go out, she’d gotten quite good. Nothing passed the time like learning a new skill.