Evan had known going into this conversation that it would only be a matter of time until she brought up the grace that it took to fall on one's own blade. He could have sniped back, and he probably should have, for the sole purpose of not giving her the satisfaction of winning, but he didn't. Instead, he just laughed a short, bitter laugh and looked down at the side that he'd sliced.
"Yes, well, we can't all be graceful like you, can we?" he asked sarcastically.
Snorting another laugh at the show Stone's bottle put on when it finally opened, Evan rolled his eyes and had to actively try not to laugh. This was indeed strange. Usually, when forced to interact for this long, the two of them were at each other's throats. There was nothing to laugh about… except maybe for the bystanders, sitting there enjoying the show. It was peculiar and disconcerting. He didn't allow it much more thought, for the pure strangeness of it.
He tried not to give it too much thought. He'd always been something of an overthinker, and he really didn't want to think too long of anything involving Miss Bitchy. Even if it was pleasant, it was giving her far more thought than she deserved.
"That's true enough. Headless, legless, armless… they don't enjoy having any fewer appendages, do they? Can't say I really blame them for that…" he added as an afterthought, taking another drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out slowly. For a brief, very weird moment, he considered offering one to Stoneheart, but he didn't. That would just be… way, way too weird, and he didn't want to go down that road.
He turned and looked at her for long enough to catch the subtle smile and found himself unable to resist countering with one of his own. "If there's one thing we French know it's our champagne," he mused, thinking back to summers in Marseille, sneaking into his mother's champagne cabinet with Olivia and then going to her father's pear tree farm and sharing a bottle. He was seventeen, and he remembered it fondly as the day he told her that he loved her. He was caught between reactions. His heart twinged painfully at the memory and he was also a little angry that it had been brought on by that bitch. Olivia deserved better than to be thought of in the same sentence; the same thought process as her.
To be honest, he wasn't even looking at her when she looked up at him. His heart hammered in his chest at the fact that Olivia's ring was on Stone's finger and he found himself torn between being sick all over the rooftop and snapping at her. But neither of those things happened. This was a weakness he never showed anyone. Not even Danny. But as he looked at Stone, wearing Olivia's ring, it was as plain as the nose on his face. He sincerely hoped she didn't prey on it, because he knew that she could.
"N-non," he stuttered, his accent thicker in his shock and rehashed grief. That ring had been on Olivia's finger when he'd left her behind. "That… the ring is… was…"
He hated this. Hated every second of having to make this confession to Stone of all people. The one person likeliest to take it and use it as ammunition to make fun of him. But… if that ring was indeed Olivia's? He wanted it. For what, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like sentimentality had any purpose in the new world, but the fact that it was in someone else's possession was like a slap in the face.
Steeling himself, he spoke again, trying to keep back the tears that were threatening to pour out. His voice was still shaky, but he spoke anyway. "It looks just like my wife's engagement ring…" he confessed, face completely defeated.