the look evan received was that of one regarding a most difficult puzzle. it made her feel a bit like a specimen under a microscope, the way this girl — gemma — was looking at her unblinkingly. it made evan want to fidget herself, eyes darting away momentarily as she adjusted the tiny moon pendant on her necklace as if it was not already perfectly placed in the hollow at the base of her throat.
investigative journalist. that would explain it. a bit of a detective. should evan try and ask gemma for her expertise in figuring this whole ordeal out? the more they spoke, the more evan was beginning to feel as though this could NOT just be some random coincidence. not a clone, not a doppelgänger, not a prank. a real person, complete with her own set of emotions and ambitions and quirks. some that, as evan’s eyes continued to move around, were much alike her own. the pen tapping was something evan often found herself doing ( and annoying others ) when she was lost in thought.
❝ i do not believe we have ever met before… ❞ but the sentence was tainted with uncertainty. it did not feel right when she said it, as though she were attempting a lie. a lie that she had forgotten the origin of, but still a lie. now, she could feel herself narrowing eyes at the other, leeriness ebbing. a strange nostalgic sensation was making itself known in her chest, and she almost wanted to rub at her shoulder to rid of it settling. ❝ could i interest you in some tea? or coffee, if you rather. my treat. we could discuss this further — if you do not have a previous engagement, of course! ❞
i do not believe we have ever met before . . .
there’s something not quite right about that phrase . nor with the palpable uncertainty through which the girl utters is . it sounds -- contrived . the walker hesitates . there’s a fog in her mind where her childhood memories are , an ocean encased in a dense veil of smog , memories bleeding like sailors’ lights through the glooming darkness . she knows only what her mother has told her . but the woman was known for her falsities and for luring viewers into a deluded sense of security so they may neglect the qualms of the world . a news anchor of lies and deceit . how much can she trust her ? how much did her mother in quebec truly know ?
her lips are pursed as gemma ponders the offer . « -- sure , » there’s caution in that tone , too . caution , but . the cipher can tell something is curtailing this brunette’s attention . perhaps there’s more that she can offer . perhaps this is all some freak coincidence . either way . . . « -- though i need you to do something for me first . i know we’ve just met , but -- »
she’s jessica jones’s prodigy , through and through . never one to beat around the bush . gemma walker is a walking paradigm , maybe . but she’s succinct and steadfast in the pursuit of her goals . in the pursuit of truths and knowledge and her investigations . « -- but how would you feel about conducting a DNA analysis with me ? see if we can figure out what the heck is going on ? »
