[ As ever, Clara’s concern over her spreads a warmth that shines through whiskey orbs and an upturned quirk of the lips. Even if it’s not needed. There’s a snarky comment settling on her tongue, which she bites back. Instead she chooses to poke fun at what has been keeping her longing for rest. ]
"I think the paperwork on my desk is magically reproducin’ more paperwork.
There don’t seem to be an end to it."
[ She hopes that the joke along with a soft, lighthearted laugh she lets slip will dispel any worry building within the other woman.
And while she's slow to perform the task she was given in this weary state, her mind continues to work as best it can. ]
[ Something clicks just then, and so she recalls the noises Clara had made earlier. Worried eyes are cast toward the brunette. A sneaking suspicion that something's wrong dawns upon her. Golden hair falls over sharp features when she dips her head, hiding the fading joy that was there a brief second ago. ]
"--What about you? Did something happen?"