He shrugs.

“I guess, but I bought it for you, so it’s yours unless you decide to give it to me.”

She shrugs as she moves out of the kitchen and closer to Z again. (She doesn't have things that are hers.)

...shit. He has no idea what to do now.

He looks down at her, a little lost, trying to figure out what comes next.

She doesn't quite look up at him, stepping not quite into his personal space, eyes still mostly looking down, although they keep darting up to gauge his reaction. Her fingers deftly slip the buttons of her shirt open and she starts to slide it off her shoulders. (She's shaking again.)

He covers his eyes immediately with one hand and steps back out of her space.

“Nope.”

She flinches away violently enough that he can probably feel it. He should definitely feel the burst of heat that comes from her.

"Sorry," she says desperately. "Sorrysorrysorry."

—okay, that was not the sensation he was expecting. He uncovers his eyes.

She hasn't put her shirt back on (although her arms are wrapped around herself enough to give her at least some dignity), maybe in part because there's flames flickering over her skin.

She seems to notice he's watching her, and hunches down further. "M'sorry. I- please, m'sorry."

Oh.

“...hey. Hey, it’s okay.”

He leans down a little.

“Your fire’s gorgeous. But it’s kind of flammable in here.”

"I know, I know. M'trying." (She sounds desperate.)

Not that telling anyone that had ever helped before. (She barely even hears the 'gorgeous' part.)

She shudders, and presses her eyes closed, curling over enough to wind her fingers through her hair and tug. (The flames slowly start to die.)

"M'sorry, please don't, I can-" she cuts herself off.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re doing your best.”

He doesn’t move closer, doesn’t raise his voice.

It takes a little while, but eventually the flames flicker out.

She's eyeing him cautiously from the corner of her eyes, gaze occasionally darting to the door (trying to gauge if she can make it).

"I- I-" she flinches. "'Ll just...go."

He shakes his head vigorously.

“No! I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to...”

He looks down at her hands.

“I’ve never seen that in person before. Do we need to get you a fire blanket? I can do that.”

He seems fascinated, more than anything.

She doesn't make any move towards the door.

She shrugs. "I- Too much trouble."

He shakes his head and waves his hands and...looks almost desperate.

“No, it’s not. Look, I...”

He stops.

“...please don’t leave right after you show me that.”

She flinches away from his waving hands (even if they're nowhere near to her).

He...wants her to stay? But he didn't- didn't want that. Or hadn't right then which didn't make sense. And even after he'd seen...

She can't really curl in on herself any more but she tries. "-I. No-one. They. I can't always...stop it." (Surely that would change his mind.) "They- didn't like it."

“...people don’t like it, sometimes. But...”

Pause.

”You’re...Pyro-3, at least, right?

She shakes her head, more helplessly than in disagreement. "I- don't. Know. I. They said I was too strong. But. Never. How strong?" She winces. "Sorry."

This is getting even more concerning than it was previously.

"Who are these...uh, wait, do you want to sit down?"

He nods to the couch.

She looks sideways at the couch. "I- please? If you- don't mind? I-i'm fine if-" She bites at her lip.

"No, yeah, definitely, go ahead."

He walks toward the couch himself, sitting down on one end and watching her.

She cautiously steps towards the couch herself (shirt clutched to her chest, she hasn't put it back on yet), and perches herself the far end from him.

He'd ask her to put her shirt back on, but he thinks there are bigger concerns at play here.

"So...who was telling you you were 'too strong'?"

She shrugs again. "I- The. My guardians?"

"Who were your guardians?"