At the sight of the file, or, rather, of its contents, he got perfectly still.

On the one hand, it was information he wanted. He'd not dared to pull it up, because it would put a target on him. On the other hand... seeing it in the hands of somebody else? It chafed. Everybody else always had the information on him, and he was left with scraps. It made him angry, and he took the effort to wait until the rage had passed, before answering.

With a question.

He reached up, and his gloved fingers touched, lightly, the picture of him with a skinny, small blond. (It hadn't been hallucinations. He had known him like that, not just the strong, fast target...)

"Do you know who this is?"