Persistence had not reaped rewards. Kindness had not. Directness had not. Evey was tenacious, but trying to talk with this man was like asking for water from a stone. He was being deliberate about it; there was a hardness he'd drawn up around himself, and it reminded her --
Ohh.
It reminded her of the shadow of herself that she'd seen in Peter's head. They were the same, she and he. It could be - oh, it was very likely - that he couldn't see how poorly her other self was doing. He couldn't tell the difference. Evey wondered if the same thing that shaped those black walls around her other self also shaped his own.
Evey stopped walking, then. "She's here," she offered at last. It may matter to him; it may not. Either way, it seemed right to say it before he walked off.