Even though it was literally a matter of life and death for him, Aaron still couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that he’d caught her trying to pull a fast one on the Resistance. The old Aaron would’ve let it slide. Even now there was a part of him that wanted to apologize and tell her to forget it, that wanted to believe that she’d pocketed that twelfth item because she needed it. But the new Aaron couldn’t afford to think like that anymore, as Bruce so often reminded him.
All things considered, coming back short after the exchange was a pretty stupid way to die. Whether that was the most likely outcome, he didn't know for sure, but it was better not to make a mistake than to learn that one was all it took for his handlers to decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and to disappear him forever. Or to learn that the only thing worse than Nora never knowing what happened to him was the Resistance punishing her for his mistake. He couldn’t put either option past them, and both were unacceptable, which left only one alternative.
Aaron couldn’t make a mistake. Ever.
That was easier said than done. Particularly when a potential mistake sprang from someone else screwing him over. He couldn’t exactly give this woman – this thief – the benefit of the doubt now that it was abundantly clear that she was counting on him not noticing the missing weapon. Maybe she did need it, but she also didn’t care what happened to him when he turned the package over without it. And Bruce had figured that out just by looking at her. Some detective Aaron was.
“... What?” His head snapped up when that very same word came out of her mouth. Detective. He felt a rising panic in his throat – did everyone in the Resistance’s radar know who he was? – but swallowed it down when she moved on to counting the money in the briefcase. Or it seemed like she was moving on, anyway. She was still watching him, a little too close for comfort. No, a lot too close.
“No, I’m just – ” Aaron started then abruptly cut himself off with a sharp exhale, as if that would help him gather his flustered thoughts. The low and constant impression of warning coming from Bruce wasn’t exactly helping him keep it together. After a moment, though, he recovered enough to say something that wasn't a lie, but at least was vague enough to keep him from revealing things he didn't want the whole world to know. “You don’t have to be a detective to know how to count.”
Though it was out of character for him, he somehow managed to look her directly in the eyes. Hers were a dark brown, with a warmth that didn’t seem to match the heartlessness she was putting fully on display. Or maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see. “No. I think I’d remember if we met before.”