An eerie sense of deja vu washed over her. She remembered him smiling blandly at his doorway, the first time she'd laid eyes on him. Then, as now, her face was blank. But today, her eyes were cold and dark as the ones that stared back at her now. She smiled. "Of course," she said, then left the couch in a slide of muscles and intent. Her hands went to her hips again, as her thoughts raced through everything she knew. Through everything that he'd said, through all he'd done. And...
There. That moment when he'd turned in one direction, corrected himself, and turned instead toward another door. What was behind the first one? Evey pictured the door in her head, but it gave no context clues. She turned on her heel, looked at Aidan for a long moment, then without another word, headed toward the door he'd first moved toward.
The feeling in the pit of her stomach reminded her of the moment she offered him a pair of aspirin and waited to see if he took it. Then, like now, she weighed everything he did and did not do against everything he'd said and had not said.
Aidan was not above lying to her, especially about things he felt ashamed about. But Evey refused to blindly follow him - or anyone - through the fiction they wanted to create. She wanted the truth. She deserved it. And so did the younger version of her.
Though, as the conversation moved forward, as the time she spent here grew longer and longer, she wondered if there weren't some way to shield her younger self of some of this. It was a passing thought, one she rejected almost at the same moment she considered it. But she did consider it.