She paused -- a brief hesitation, by the door, as Chilton swept himself in. She'd watched her strike hit its mark, watched the anticipated resulting tell in his expression, a brief slip of a sneer. But that moment was past, and something was off. Everything about his soft prattling -- the cheerful overtones, the (taunting, surely) references to this yet-unnamed topic -- read like a neon sign had sprung into existence above his head. CAUTION.

Narrowing her eyes, Karla followed him in, her own steps slowed and measured. Perhaps the slip hadn't been a slip at all -- perhaps Chilton had tossed her something he knew she wanted, had delivered an easily-read micro-reaction to throw her off. A false sense of security had proven an easily exploited weakness for her before. Hadn't she fabricated reactions herself, and for similar purposes? There was nothing to say he wasn't capable of the same. What -- she thought, watching him breeze his way across her office -- what did he want her to play into?

It'd have to wait.

Not much in the way of skipping through fields or any other activity that might remotely qualify as a frolic, no, but there had been a conversation with the aforementioned that had been positively illuminating. This would be the time to claim the upper hand, before he did.

"Will Graham is assigned to my assigned housing."

(As if that were explanation enough for an outsized, out-of-place fish trophy.)

"But I thought we could discuss something we haven't yet touched on today. You went back to your home and returned."

His response to a traumatic incident was the topic at hand, even if that particular trauma was unknown to the supervisor who had mandated his assessment.

"If the subject isn't too difficult for you."

The best defense, and all that.