[At his request, she puts both of her hands up to show that they're empty, immediately eager to make any small effort she can to assure that there is no danger here, that she is who she says she is. She watches intently as he sets his keys and dagger aside, pressing her lips together as she feels another surge of worry flood her chest. It's strange to see Claude unsteady, uncertain, but whatever is happening here is unprecedented territory for the both of them. She's never been mistaken for someone else before, even in the most mundane fashion— and certainly not like this.]

Not moving.

[It's all she can do at the moment: offer him confirmation. As he moves forward, she holds her breath without realizing; her gaze moves upwards to track his hand as he reaches out for something— Edelgard's crown, perhaps?— but only finds air, and only when he exhales does her own breath resume. There's no time to collect herself or ask anything further before she finds herself pulled into a tight embrace, and though she's momentarily startled, she returns it not a heartbeat later, tucking her chin against his shoulder as she gives him a reassuring squeeze around the middle.]

You are having nothing to apologize for. Things are— they are strange at the moment, are they not?

[She's heard whispers, and that dream of hers...]

I do not know why you are seeing me differently, but I do know that whatever is happening, it is not your fault.