[She isn't sure he does understand. But something - her memories and her instincts - tell her that if anyone was going to, it would be him. They're similar, somehow. She knows that's true, not the way she knows someone is telling the truth but the way she knows there are seven continents and water is made of hydrogen and oxygen. Inarguable facts.]
What's that?
[She points at the file. It's a somewhat disingenuous question. She knows, more or less, what it is. It's her life. It's her crimes. But she also doesn't quite know how to ask what she means, which is: what's in it? What has he seen? What does it mean, for her, for him, for both of them?]
no subject
What's that?
[She points at the file. It's a somewhat disingenuous question. She knows, more or less, what it is. It's her life. It's her crimes. But she also doesn't quite know how to ask what she means, which is: what's in it? What has he seen? What does it mean, for her, for him, for both of them?]