@lodgetrapped
It pleases her to watch Cooper rifle through the file, and she watches him to do with a muted sort of anticipation. What could he possibly show her in that confidential folder of his? She thinks, after a long moment, that he might not even find anything. So it pleases her further to see him hold up a sheet of paper that she can't yet see and consider it.
He slides it over and her mouth goes dry before it even reaches her side of the table.
It's him.
Her pulse quickens.
It -- it's him.
Julie stares at the picture for far too long. Her eyes connect with the blue and unfocus, widening, seeing the entire composition at once; the jaw, the scar, the hair. This is the face she sees in nightmares. This is the face she sees when she turns a corner too fast. This is the face she fled New York for, the one that watched her bleed out, the one -- fuck. Fuck.
Her heart is about to jackhammer out of her chest. Frozen solid, Julie flicks her eyes to Cooper's. Flicks away just as fast -- but there's no mistaking the veiled fear that lines the crease of her brow.
He can’t know.
She doesn’t want him to know.
Cooper. Cannot. Know.
"That's."
Her voice is too light. Too soft. Practically a whisper, and Julie clears her throat. Cooper can't. Suspect anything. He can't -- she has to. Everything is okay. It's okay. She doesn't know this man. It's just a picture. It's okay.
A finger reaches out, the rest of her hand trembling, and touches only the very edge of the paper. She nudges it back to Cooper without looking. It scrapes and stutters quietly against the table. It feels like a scream.
"--Um. Cool."