[She doesn't begin right away. She takes her time first, as much for her own sake as for his, adjusting her legs until she finds a position that will be comfortable for the long haul. It's going to be a long haul, she knows that much already; there's no possible way it can't be, considering what's happened and the implications it might hold for the two of them.

But once they're settled, she doesn't waste time with hesitation, either. The words may be quiet, careful, but they're not weak or uncertain by any means.]

I was out. It always seems I'm...out, days like that. At least, I have been both times it's happened. [It's a delicate way of saying she had a heist on her mind; she's not about to deny it, but that's another debate entirely, and not one they need to get into now.] You — no. He was there, but I could tell it wasn't you. I just...knew.

[She presses her lips together slightly, a little put off at that. Intuition is fine, but she feels as though she ought to have a better explanation than the only one she does.]

He asked about you. That isn't how I knew the difference; I knew it before then, already. But he was...curious. About you. And me.

[And now she does slow down, more careful — not scared, not shaken, but there's an odd and hollow way the memory reflects around her eyes.]

He told me to be careful. And then —

[Her brow furrows and she shakes her head slightly, her gaze turning down to the floor beside her as she tries to recall something that isn't quite there. She knows what she saw — but where are the words to capture it?]