[The sound of footsteps makes her look up, but it's in a dim sort of way. Her mind is elsewhere - or perhaps just far too deeply turned inward - but she takes in the sight, sees him the way she sees herself and all the others, and it offers her no real comfort.]
[Except... she knows him. She knows him, before she even knows why she knows him. It's not the lines that tell her, exactly, or the voice that says her name; it's something that leaps up from the back of her mind, and perhaps it's his soul that she recognizes, without quite realizing it right away.]
[But it's him, and that's good enough, that's reason enough to shock her into straightening slightly, almost guiltily. There are... more important things to worry about than what this means for her.]
no subject
[Except... she knows him. She knows him, before she even knows why she knows him. It's not the lines that tell her, exactly, or the voice that says her name; it's something that leaps up from the back of her mind, and perhaps it's his soul that she recognizes, without quite realizing it right away.]
[But it's him, and that's good enough, that's reason enough to shock her into straightening slightly, almost guiltily. There are... more important things to worry about than what this means for her.]
-- Yes. It's-- me, Ira.