There was no need to ask for context for the number he gave her. Evey rubbed her eyes. 13. It was a good that the number was low enough that he could remember. The next thing, her mechanical mind determined, was to ensure that no one else would know what he'd done. She could be trusted. The other Evey could be trusted. But others...
Evey remembered Dean. Dean, who apparently wanted to kill the person he'd called his best friend, once he learned what Aidan was.
"Where are their bodies?" she asked. It was the next question. Evey stood up from the couch and walked to him. There would be no falling apart. There would be no quavering from what was necessary. He would do it. And she would help him.