She slid her keys into the white porcelain bowl on its Doric stand beside the door, then reached behind herself and locked the door while closing it. Practiced movements, as if she'd done it every day for years. Evey's movements - Evey from London, Evey from die Festung. But when she released his hand at last and turned toward him, her expression was...
... not quite blank... Intense in a subtle way. She slid in front of him and used his shoulders for balance while she stepped on the backs of her boots, one after the other, until she was out of them, then did the same with her socks, and nudged the whole lot against the wall beside the door. They would stay there -- for now. For now. Her eyebrows drew together, and her mouth thinned. Not anger. Not perplexity. Something else. She set her hands to the hem of that t-shirt she'd picked for him, then pulled slowly and steadily upwards until she'd gotten it completely off him.
And she folded it neatly. Set it over the bowl at the door. Stepped back. Took a breath.