Allison huffs out a breath when he flops on her, but by the small shake of her shoulders he may be able to tell that it’s intended to be a laugh. This is the first time she has done that since that fateful night at the cabin, and even if it feels pathetic and wrong considering there’s no sound even if her body still goes through the motions, there’s a very small part that feels almost relieved. As if that breath had been trapped in, suffocating her.

The pseudo laugh comes again when Klaus talks about Claire’s drawings, and she shakes her head at him. Her smile becomes a little tight despite herself, though, unable to hide it; not because of what he said, but at the idea of spending a whole afternoon together with the whole family. Which is horrible, and she knows that. She should be happy, thrilled at having a chance to be with them after almost dying, and while she does feel relieved at that she also knows it won’t be easy. She won’t be able to properly communicate with them, she won’t be able to laugh or talk. She won’t be able to tease Patrick or Klaus, or whisper with Claire before they disappear to the kitchen for a snack. She knows she’ll be able write whatever she has to say, that there are alternatives, but she feels so cut out from how life used to be that it feels like her heart gets wrung tight inside of her. The ache of it is so strong that unconsciously she rubs at her chest bone as if that will help at all.

Sleep, she ‘says’ to Klaus before he can call her out in it, bringing the covers tighter around him from her spot on the bed. As if motioning for him to get some rest, especially since she had woken him up.