His reaction hardly throws her, and Claire can't tell if it's frustrating because of that or because it's the response she gets at all. She isn't sure what she was expecting, other than to be met with a stranger's face when he finally turned around. Maybe it's that leaving her unequipped to process this correctly. Maybe it's the three years spent on a different plane of reality that has conditioned her, numbed her to situations like this in some way so that she doesn't run or jump, yell or cry. His reaction being what it is, she can't decide if offering him a smile would even be a good course of action.

So she waits, pressing her lips together and running her tongue against the seam there: a less obvious nervous habit than fiddling with the ends of her hair. It's only when he addresses her directly that she breaks the seal of her mouth with a soft sound, brow furrowing without hesitation as she realizes that she has absolutely no idea what he's talking about.

"I didn't work in a bar when we knew each other," she replies, and doesn't back away. If anything, she'd like to step closer and examine him better, but approaching him like some sort of science project might not go over well. "And you weren't... I never met you in a bar. Severus." It's not alien at all. Still, she feels the need to add, just a second too late not to sound awkward and forced: "Snape."

She spares a glance at those strange items he's purchased, wondering if she could name some of them thanks to those months spent stocking inventory in his shop. She looks up, guarded. "I don't usually start strange conversations in marketplaces with potential strangers. I know you. I don't know if I know you. And I don't know if that makes sense."