"You were not yourself." Well. He was and wasn't- he'd just been the worst parts of himself bundled up with all that anger and given a perfectly convenient, helpless target. She'd been lucky Clint had been able to talk him down. That he'd hesitated at all from simply snapping her neck. The reminder, however, was chilling. Lent an extra edge of anxiety, of wariness to her words and motions.

"Those. Threads-" She gestured to his wrist. "After the failed attempt to remove them. I do not know if I'd call that a fit or catharsis. The rest I have not seen for myself in their entirety- at least not well enough to know the trigger."