[Surprised to be presented with a portrait, Claire steps closer to get a better look at it. Truth be told, she hasn't seen a child that young here, though there's something striking about his face. Maybe all little boys have it, but it's not a face that reminds her of any of Bree's schoolmates when she was that young. It's something else that grips her heart uncomfortably. There's something more Bree like, she thinks. Except no. Not quite.

Jamie shouldn't come to mind.

If he were a young boy, and Claire can vaguely remember a painting in Lallybroch done by his mother, he'd look similar, albeit the red hair. He'd been two or three in that portrait with his older brother Willie, but the images overlay in her mind and there's just something uncanny that unsettles her and has her looking at the portrait for far too long.]

I--don't believe I have. I'm sorry. I'll keep an eye out for him, though. What's his name?

[Oh, manners. Claire forgets, sometimes.]

And yours, for that matter? I'm Claire Randall.