Evan was aware that sometimes he came on a little strong with his coldness, but it was just the way he was. It'd hit him later, and he'd feel guilty for it for a minute or two, but friendliness generally led to closeness and closeness led to weakness. Especially when that particular someone wasn't immune. Maybe it was a bit selfish, but for his own sake (and secretly, and maybe sort of secondary, for the sake of others), for his own sanity, it was best to be a jerk.
Holding his hand out and telling Lukas to stay put, Evan turned his head around the corner and looked along the main road. The infected lined the street, and if they so much as made a step out there, they'd be toast. "C'mon, we can't go the main street," Evan said calmly, but with a serious edge in his tone. "I know some back ways that'll get us there unscathed," he instructed as he headed back down the alley and turned another corner.
Walking slowly but staying alert, Evan led the way to Vanderbilt Avenue, but really, from here, there was no way around it. They'd have to cross the main road to climb over the barricade and get into the safehouse. This had always been Evan's least favorite part of supply runs, because the army of infected never seemed to dwindle, and they were always hungry, it seemed. He'd been bitten more than his fair share while making this final cross, and it was always harder when escorting a survivor, because you had to look out for more than yourself.
And yet, here he found himself yet again, escorting a survivor to and across this stupid road. "Go," he commanded, putting his own frustration with the guy aside. "I'll cover you. But try to be quick. The shortest way across the barricade is the stack of boxes right there."