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Kitty has been dead for an awful long time, and she's become awfully good at avoiding things she doesn't want to confront. This is an extremely useful skill. It's enabled her to keep acting as if everyone is her best friend even when she's slightly convinced they all hate her. It's enabled her to keep pushing forward even when she's slightly convinced she hates herself.
It's not that she hates all negative emotions, oh no. But there are some that are totally reasonable - like when she was jealous because of Lucy, or when she stood up to the Captain. She can be like that. No, it's the things that are buried further underneath that she avoids. The sinking feeling when she sees pictures of herself or glances down at what she's wearing, despite the fact she objectively knows it's very pretty and in one of her favourite colours. The slight winces she gets whenever she opens her mouth and what comes out is a high-pitched squeal. The discomfort when she can't distance herself from everything far enough, and she sees herself from an outside perspective: a silly, giggling little girl. The anger at the idea. She just pushes it all down.
And that's all she can do, really, isn't it? Kitty can't feel any of those things. Kitty can't be like that. Kitty has to love herself and everyone else, to be over happy, over excitable. Even if anything she says sounds hollow. Even if she herself feels hollow.
"Are you alright, there, Katherine?" says a deep voice from behind her, and suddenly Kitty is very aware she has been zoned out and gazing out of the window for a while now.
"Perfectly so," she tells the Captain, and tries to ignore how obviously she is lying. The Captain clears his throat from behind her, so she finds herself spinning around to look at him. His eyebrows are furrowed at her, but his eyes are soft, and Kitty finds herself in a bit less of a bad mood.
When the Captain had first died, Kitty was sure she was in love with him. He was tall, and handsome, and a proper gentleman, and she couldn't stop looking at him, thinking about him. It was fairly obvious he was never going to return her feelings, (her and Thomas had watched his relationship with his lieutenant unfold like a Shakespearean play) but it was an unrequited crush, the type to humour for the butterflies and the good moods. Only she never got butterflies, never wanted to kiss him. In fact, the thought repulsed her. It was almost as if she wanted to be him, and found herself thinking about being his height, wearing that uniform, speaking with that voice, being referred to as a he. It was an odd train of thought that made her feel rather icky, so she tried to stop it, and shoved it to the back of her brain. It comes back from time to time.
She certainly doesn't have a crush on him now, though. When he puts his hand on her shoulder, she rather thinks of him as a father, and forgoes her usual appearance for something a little more natural. She isn't exactly sure what natural means for her, though. Perhaps once apon a time Kitty was natural, but now it is a part she has long since outgrown.
"Thank you for checking on me."
"Ah, nonsense. After all, it's my duty to make sure all soldiers are of good health and well being, and that of course includes you," Kitty tries not to smile too much at being referred to as a soldier, but it eases something in her chest. She tries for a smile at the Captain's perpetually raised eyebrow, and he gives her a restrained smile in return. They're both holding things back, it seems.
"Now, would you like to join me downstairs? I believe Patrick wanted a dance partner, and you are certainly suitable."
Kitty's mood is soured a little at this for a reason she can't explain, but she tucks the emotion at the back of her head and smiles a smile that's perhaps more of a grimace.
"Certainly. Lead the way."