"Of course you'd be the first one I have to take care of when I come back here," Claire mutters under her breath. She's dabbing at the dried blood on Topher's cheek so that she can clean and cover the cut properly, the fingers of her left hand against his chin to keep him from moving too much.
He offers an apologetic and slightly painful grin. "Picking fights with people bigger than me is my new pastime."
"I can see that," she says, leaning back to take in the full sight of him. In addition to the cut, he's got quite a few bruises and scrapes to show for his little altercation. "You're lucky Mr. Ballard didn't break your arm. Or kill you."
"He wouldn't kill me. Echo likes me, and we all know he's a sucker when it comes to Echo. Anyway, he was being an idiot."
Claire hums her agreement, eyes flicking away from his face and down to the tray beside her. "Echo told me I shouldn't be so mean to you, because you helped Sierra." She picks up an antiseptic wipe and leans back in to clean the cut.
Topher chuckles humorlessly. "Echo has a generous definition of 'help'," he mumbles, wincing slightly.
She doesn't respond to that, focuses on finishing with the cut and applying a butterfly bandage to hold it together. "This should heal okay," she tells him, turning his chin slightly to inspect her work. "It might scar, though. Make sure you keep it clean."
"I can do that. Probably."
"Alright. Let me see your hand, now." He starts to shift, and she quickly adds, "Gently. You're still going to feel a lot of shoulder pain, and you don't want to wrench it." Claire takes his hand in her own, noticing how he flinches from the pressure she applies. She examines the scrapes on his knuckles and reaches for another wipe. "For future reference, getting into a fistfight with a former federal agent puts you at the disadvantage." She pauses and gives him a look. "Getting into a fistfight with anyone puts you at the disadvantage," she corrects.
Topher grins. "Ouch. Your journey of self-discovery has made you very sarcastic," he notes, waggling a finger at her with his free hand.
"Is that not something from your original programming?"
"No, I was going for something more along the 'humorless bitch' lines instea–aah! Owowow!"
"Sorry. I meant to warn you that would sting."
She lets go of his hand, and he jerks it back. "You know, a tendency toward sadism wasn't in there either."
Claire looks up from putting away her supplies and gives him the smallest of smiles. "Your work really isn't up to par, then."
"Yeah, maybe not so much." She gives him a surprised look, and Topher's smile slowly fades as she continues to hold his gaze. "Why aren't you still mad at me?" he asks quietly.
She blinks, looks down, and finishes cleaning up. "I am still mad at you," she sighs, "but blaming you isn't going to help me. Neither is running away from this place." She turns around and puts the first aid kit away, then walks briskly toward her desk.
Topher slides off the exam table and stands awkwardly. "It's good to have you back in the House," he says after a moment.
Claire doesn't face him. "I'm not staying here."
"I didn't think you were."