Despite her keen tenseness, she is blindsided by his attack and flinches visibly before striking back with her own sharp increase of positive time between her two shapes. She glares balefully at him, both for the unexpected hateful shock and because he's stepped away from the immediate reach of her doors. Wretched creature. She's not even sure if he spotted her or just lashed out for no reason, but either way staying cloaked can only be an advantage.

And that's as far as she can think, when his words are so infuriating. "Why?" she demands, clenching her fists and taking a step forward. "Why must it affect me? Of all your potential targets here, is something only worth doing if you can be assured that I will notice?" There's both incredulity and contempt in her voice; she can't begin to fathom his sickening, mad, distorted motivations, and doesn't want to, but he's proven time and time again how relentlessly obsessed he is with her. He's proving it now, by being here, following an invitation which she hadn't even pretended was not a trap. It's repulsive and frustrating and incomprehensible and she's itching to wring an answer from him.

"And what will you do when I have gone home and there is no one left to see you throw a fit? Will your tantrums even be worth the effort, then?" Incensed, she marches towards him with each question, circling to put his back to her again, put him where he belongs; in her grasp.