[center]The sound of the piano had continued to drift on the air for quite a while, a welcome distraction to the thoughts that continued to plague her. No matter how many times she had numbed it with whatever vice she could find, no matter how much she had managed to store away deep inside, how she could have closed old wounds, it seemed suddenly everything was brought to light once more, taunting her as she knew it would take just as long to fight against now as it had before. The frown remained deeply set on Clara's lips before she had taken another large drink from her glass, wanting to polish the bottle off as quick as she could so she could rush the effects the wine always had on her mind. She yearned for that familiar numbness, the warm sensation that would wash over her and inevitably make her forget just for a fleeting moment until the nightmares reached her again. 

She had tried to focus on at least one of the books in her lap. She'd opened it to the first page, staring down at the written words as if they were some foreign language, something she couldn't entirely comprehend no matter how much she tried. She would get through a sentence or two, find herself submerged in word, but then suddenly realize that she'd no idea what she had just read. It was all a frustrating cycle that she couldn't entirely break and it only pushed her to drink her wine quicker. 

The absence of his music suddenly had been almost deafening to Clara's ears and amidst her frustration of trying to read, she couldn't help but hone in on the fact that he no longer had been playing. She knew she could ignore it; go back to trying to distract herself but then again, she understood that he must have been going through at least something similar to what she was. He too, had memories awakened by all of this – had to relive every bit of how he had been changed, and she could have easily assumed that it would hardly be pleasant. 

Frustrated at her own acknowledgement and the sudden urge to find out if, perhaps, he was alright (she at least owed him that much for telling her even a bit about the night that still remained much of a mystery to her), she had shoved her books aside to land on the floor next to her chair. With a little huff, Clara had leaned down to pick up her bottle, her glass still in her free hand before she had straightened and immediately was headed out of the room and towards where she had heard him playing. 

Once there, however, her frown returned as Clara eyed him, nearly curled within himself. Breathing a slow sigh she stepped forward carefully, and without invitation, had sat on the bench of the piano next to him, her hand outstretched to offer her glass of wine that had been refilled. "I know it's probably not the… best of options, but it [i]does[/i] help…" She murmured, looking between the glass and him for a long moment. [/center][@Arista]