[She turns to look straight at him, all signs of hesitation or embarrassment or fear or sadness gone in that single moment. There's just anger suppressed beneath a thin veil of neutrality. Kryptonite would help her feel safe, but apparently he has his limitations.]

I do feel unsafe. All the time. And I have to, because I died and I'll never feel the same. But you know what? It's my life and I know- I know you're trying to help, but you're really not. So.. please? Just go.