"About nine months," she answered, her eyes watching the woman carefully. She must have been from some other culture, though Evey knew too little of the cultures of Earth before. There had been some, before the virus, before the war.... all memories that had been swallowed, half-digested by the horrors of that war. Her classes in London hadn't focused on prior civilizations, except to outline their folly and malign them for bringing on the downfall of most of civilization. There had been so much Norsefire indoctrination that she barely trusted anything she heard from those instructors in the reclamation camps.
Evey slipped her hands into the pockets of her dark trousers and lifted slender shoulders gently. She had also been rather amazed by the decadence of this City. It seemed a place untouched by want. Preston's flat had been a retreat into familiarity, into something Spartan and simple, and something she could recognize again. He'd helped her into a world unlike any other she'd ever seen, simply by giving her a shelter she could recognize. The corners of her mouth flexed slightly, before dipping again. Her eyes never had lost the shades of sadness in them, but that grayness intensified briefly before she pulled her thoughts away from him.
"You live in Agreeable Apartments, don't you?" she asked instead. "It may be difficult to keep a goat indoors."