As the woman talked, Evey took in the little details of her. The stitches in her clothing were hand-sewn, carefully and cleanly, as from a hand of a professional. The style was strange; the fabrics were not. It was not uncommon for women to avoid cosmetics. Evey had, after V - and there'd been precious little chance to pick up the habit again after London... until now. Now, this woman had access to just as much as Evey did, and yet...
When she mentioned roasting the kid, Evey raised her eyebrows. It was uncommon fare. In London, some of the people in the office had begun to laugh and scoff a little too loudly at the idea of skinning and eating rats. Evey had joined in with the joking, and saw and shared the glances out of the corner of the eye when the laughter stopped. She knew something of uncommon fare, desperate fare.
But this was no land of rations.
The conclusion was that this woman preferred the differences - all of the tiny little things.