One minute, she'd been in the caravan heading away from die Festung; the next, standing on an unbroken asphalt street just in front of a grand white courthouse. It was the middle of the night, not the middle of the day, and her stomach felt as if it'd dropped straight between her toes.
But whatever physical reaction her body was having to the shift in reality, it was nothing compared to what was in her head. Fractured echoes of Peter, and a strange and dark mirror of herself echoed inside her head. Shuddering, she grabbed at her temples (as if it could help) and tried to slow the carousel of strangeness behind her eyes.
In a few minutes, Peter's mind settled, and it felt as if there were only just one of him... But there was still that stony, broken echo of herself across their shared mental space. It hurt to look at that ugliness. Was this how Peter saw her? But no, no, she knew far better than that. Was this how she saw herself? ... She looked closer, but then shook her head. No. No, it wasn't.... It...
... It (she?) was suddenly gone. The quietness she was used to settled back around her. Peter called her.
What the actual hell? she answered back, looking down at herself. Her pockets felt heavy. She fished around inside them and found a pair of keys with an "Agreeable Apartments" fob on the ring. She turned them over and found a number carved into the keys - ostensibly the number to the flat that the keys belonged. Where? she asked, simultaneously broadcasting her own location to him. A yellow taxi - much like the American ones she'd seen in Peter's head - pulled up in front of her. It looked as if it were waiting. She frowned at it, then fished around in her pockets again, as the taxi driver got out and circled around. He opened the door just as she found an overlarge wad of currency in her other pocket.
"Save some of that for me," the taxi driver joked. Blankly, Evey stepped into the back of the cab, and mumbled the name of the apartment complex when the driver asked where to go.