Adam smiled back. Something in her bearing seemed familiar; a name danced on the tip of his tongue, nibbled at the edge of his memory. It was a sensation with which he had grown quite familiar in his time at Pax. He caught himself wondering who this woman might truly be, if she were like others he had met since moving beneath that passing strange roof. He shook off this idle contemplation, recognizing it for the useless rabbit trail it was.
"It looked like something she'd want," he said, lifting it to her appraisal. "I appreciate your help." Though he fought a fleeting urge, Adam kept himself from throwing a glance back to the receptionist. Instead he kept his eyes on the woman he felt he'd known before, and politely introduced himself. "I'm Adam Vejas," he said. "I responded to the initial call at Miss Browning's apartment." He shook his head, some unwilling acknowledgement of his lingering feeling of guilt. He could have done more for her, perhaps, could have been there sooner, could have kept her wounds from scarring and serving as a painful reminder of her sorrows, carved into her skin.