Clair is a methodical researcher, these days. She's cultured Doctor Grey's blood, run a doze tests to be sure he's no strange mutant to create meaningless outliers in her data pool. Everything looks good.
So, she pays him another visit. He can hear the actuators before the door slides open, and she's suspended in their midst, high enough that she can look down on him. That's a useful psychological effect, she knows, even if he's resistant. It emphasizes the fact that while she may appear small and harmless herself (And... she is, except for her prediliction for needles), she has the complete use and control of four thirty-foot-long arms, each capable of crushing a car into something that would fit in a gym locker.
And she has a bag of candy
"Good morning, Doctor Grey. I hope you got some sleep. Inky said you've been relatively quiet, that's good. Is there anything you'd like for your room? I know it's pretty sterile." She rummages through the bag, picks out the last orange one, and unwraps it and pops it in her mouth. All that are left now are pink and purple, and she offers him the bag. "Sweet?"