When it came to people she least wanted to encounter and most wanted to annoy, there really was no one that fit that category more than Evan Marchand. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating a little since the man was sitting right there, but when push came to shove, well, push really came to shove when the two of them had to deal with one another. Thankfully that didn't happen often, since they were rarely at the same safehouse.
Leah inhaled sharply, regaining the dignity she'd dropped from her less than careful steps. Her lips twisted with indecision. Any remark about him vacating the area would no doubt start an argument, and if truth be told, Leah wasn't much in the mood for arguing right now. Solitude was what she craved, but of course that was going to be denied her.
Evan set down his bottle of alcohol, bringing Leah's attention to the pack of cigarettes laying beside him. Lines started to appear between her brows, quickly deepening into a frown the instant she realized what the man was doing. Likely Evan didn't know she'd used up her last pack days ago, but he was taunting her just the same. Suddenly she didn't feel quite against starting a row, but what better way to counter the vindictive than with the sickeningly sweet?
With a jerk of her head, Leah spread her lips in a grim mockery of a smile and said, "Well, hey there, Frenchie. What're we celebrating?"