"Were I to have a daughter of my own, I should like her to be like Sansa," Evelyn supplements out of fondness, for the girl of the north who is brave in spite of all that she has seen. An appreciation for Bucky's firm dive into conversation is evident in her tone, as avoidance manoeuvres and non-confrontational behaviour irk her immensely.

"This is work," she hazards slowly, gesturing to the files, "After a fashion. This desk belonged to a very close friend of mine, who spent several years here. He's...no longer with us."

Keeping his disappearance light and vague will prevent her from over examining the similarities between her position and Mark's. Evelyn's gaze trips away from her company and her fingertips smooth over a folded stuffed with transcriptions of something or other.

"He was a studious and persistent man, had spent a great deal of time working on breaking codes and ciphers. His, ah...his daughter had been kidnapped. He was trying to find her."