Clara resists the urge to point out that no, he isn't fine or okay. Neither of them are. Neither of them should be, considering the situation they've been put in. Had it been six months ago, she would have done so until Alex finally spilled, especially since every time he said he was fine or okay in that tone of voice, things were almost always anything but. The only thing that stops her is that she feels like she needs to walk on eggshells when it comes to certain subjects involving him these days, not that she would know how much she actually needs to do so when actually talking to him.

Instead she puts the scissors down, stands up, and walks over to him, locking her eyes onto Alex's the moment his visor goes up. Despite everything, a small, relieved ghost of a smile blooms across her lips as soon as she sees that there's a spark of life in his eyes that wasn't there the last time she properly looked at him face-to-face. That smile mostly falters the moment he brings up the suit.

"Yeah, it's something like that," It isn't the suit that makes her smile fall. While she obviously wishes that things were the way they were before the bombing, she had done enough research on her own in the months afterward to know that what Dr. Norton was offering was Alex's best chance at having something resembling the life he led before. Sure, she still hasn't completely adjusted to seeing him like this in person, but she knows enough about it to know that it's, essentially, as much a part of him as his eyes are or his hair (and so many other things, though she refuses to acknowledge that part right now) had been.

But the fact that he's talking about the suit like it's totally new to him is, if she's being honest, a little terrifying. How can he not know? The only time he came home, he knew what he could do and what had happened to him. What had been done to him (and that she had signed off on it). "Alex, what's the last thing you remember before you woke up in the Capitol?"