He wasn't absolutely certain it was the Evey from the island of faraway daydreams until she looked at him like that and said his name. His gaze dropped to their hands, his hand reflexively holding on to hers without him giving it any thought, and as she whisked him away he raised his gaze again as if he could see through the back of her head and into her essence that had reached out and entwined itself with what semblance he had of a soul.
John didn't know where they were going or why they stopped rather abruptly, but he dutifully followed. He tilted his head a little, as if entranced by her stark relief against the backdrop of a brick wall. He was still wrapping his head around the fact that there were two - vastly different - copies of her, though she must have thought he was staring intently at her face for no apparent reason.
The silence that ensued between them wasn't because he'd missed her question. He didn't really know how to respond to that. Where had he been? He'd been here, in the city. In his apartment, on the rooftop, on the streets, in shops - wherever. Anywhere. It hadn't mattered to him before and it didn't matter now.
"I..." He pursed his lips and bit down on his bottom lip, a telltale sign of uncertainty he would have never missed if he could see his own reflection.
"I've been here. Back in my old apartment, from before it all happened." Well, not from before he'd been pulled out of Libria, but before the island happened, anyway.
Unsure of whether he ought to bring up the other Evey he'd encountered, he gauged her reaction before considering how to proceed.