Iris blinked hard once only and a slight tightening around her eyes was the result of an excess of fatigue and not enough control. She kept her thoughts off her face, but of course, someone who knew her connection to the name 'Harris' knew her well enough to know what her thoughts were. Suspicion, at first. Her demeanor changed: she pulled her shoulders upright a little, spine straightening, eyes sharpening. Harry had been the name of a friend; a very dear friend, a friend who had taught Iris how to survive. Some might contest these skills weren't the best to teach a young girl on her own in the world, but as far as Iris was concerned, she was good at what she did because of that man, and she owed him enough to lend a hand to his heir and that heir had taken that name: Evan Harris.
She had still never met this man in her life. She thought perhaps he was there from the Bureau, there because she had lost that damned tracker. "Oh, are you a friend of his?" Something in her tone said she knew that he was not.