He doesn't get it. That's the first fact that immediately comes clear when he pushes off the bed and stands to the side, throws his words at her like the very idea of being unable to enjoy the parties is... wrong, or incomprehensible to him. And for all that she knows he throws around curses more often, more off-handedly than Claire does herself, at the moment, that feels like its own barb, too. Everything's wrong. Everything's going wrong, and Claire can't help but blame herself for that, for having forced him into something that he probably doesn't even want. She's not the kind of girl that he wants, the kind who can hang and let herself go.

There's been too much in her life for Claire to give way completely. She thought, maybe he'd understand, having been to New York, but. If he didn't, she's not going to force him to try.

They're not the sort of emotions one would want to force on anyone.

"Yeah," she echoes instead, even though her words feel tight and her throat's a touch hoarse. "Not the end of the world."