Evey stopped when he put his hand on the door. For a moment, with her head bowed and shoulders slumped, she looked very small and very worn. Nothing about her could be seen as threatening - not in that moment. The weight of Aidan's betrayal pressed into her, and she swallowed the thickness in her throat.
But Evey knew how to move, when she needed to, move around obstacles, move between barriers, just move. She didn't let the disappointment cripple her; too much was at stake. A moment later, she'd erased the seeming of her grief from every line in her body, and when she lifted her head, the only expression she carried with the motion was disdain.
"What are you doing, Aidan Waite?" she charged, setting her shoulder against the door and her hand on the door knob. "What?" The last word nearly spat itself out.