Hap is trying to reclaim himself. Once again through her. He can't treat her like a subject after what he did, because he doesn't do this with his subjects. He would never. There was an unacknowledged security to Prairie's rejection of him, in that sense. Maybe that's why he couldn't stop himself from wanting her.

In the split second as she shifts to face him, he braces himself for bewildered loathing. Raw, searing disgust. A brittle mask over sorrow. And his heart pitches with anticipation; he could treat her like a subject then. Subjects look at him like that all the time.

He's captivated by the candor in her eyes. A glistening open wound. Hap ensnares her kiss. The tension of readying himself becomes the tension of remaining still, infinitesimal and frantic like the buzzing of atoms.