Alarm swirls beneath her breastbone, rising steadily as she realizes just how transparent he's made himself. The only times he's ever been so clear have been when he was so depressed that he couldn't seem to remember - or to care - how to erect his customary barriers. She searches his face for signs that this might be a cry for help, that maybe she should call the ambulance now, and she's so caught up in her fear that she only half hears what he's saying. She is actually opening her mouth to say something about it when the rest of the content catches up with her and she rocks back a little.

For a moment, she gapes, then she snaps her mouth shut, blinking owlishly at him through her glasses. "I... I-I'm sorry, you want to..." The pressure in her chest pauses, the deadly calm before the storm. "...I beg your pardon?" she asks faintly. Her fingers absently knot themselves into the hem of her shirt.