All was not well with Mag; that much was clear by her response. The woman was nearly ebullient most of the time -- at least, most of the time Evey'd spent with her, only the earthquake withstanding. But now... Now the singer looked as if she'd been moving through the world, not propelled by the joy that lit her from within, but by necessity.
Never before had Evey seen the contrast between how one could live, and how she'd chosen to live for so, so long. It was stark and uncomfortable, that transposed glimpse into her own circumstances. Perhaps Peter's influence was far better than she'd guessed. Perhaps... Perhaps Carlos had been right about what made life worth living.
She'd think about that later, in the long stretch of the night, when no one else stirred.
"It's good to be moving," she said, "It's good to be doing something other than watching the settlement fall apart piece by piece. And I've been very pleasantly surprised about how the people have helped each other. I haven't seen anyone act cruelly, and now would be the time to take advantage, if one were so inclined. It's..."
Evey looked around her. What. What was it?
"... comforting."
And that was a very strange word, coming from her mouth. Evey'd actively run from anything resembling comfort. Comfort had been, for so long, the silent enemy that kept others in complacency, that forced inaction from otherwise good people who were too afraid to let go of the things that made their lives easier. Comfort. That word, that hated word.... And she used it with hesitance, still... but she used it. It was very strange.