To be honest, Evan wasn't very good at this "sleeping" business. Maybe he was a little bit of a wuss, but sleeping on a cot in a sleeping bag barely appealed to him on family camping trips, so having done it every night for the past five years was… well, just another thing to compile onto the nightmare, really.
It wasn't that he liked being negative; he didn't. He really didn't, but he was having a hard time finding much to be positive about anymore.
He sighed, sitting up in his cot and looking over at Danny and smiling for a half-second, then he turned to Georgie and his smile grew sad. He remembered ten years ago, when Georgie was seven years old and thought that Evan knew the "most in the entire world about everything" and made him "promise to always protect her forever." Now, she spent all her days and most of her nights yelling at him, telling him how he was being selfish for doing just as he'd promised to do ten years ago. He missed those days, and he missed being Georgie's favorite person.
He needed something to drink. Preferably something alcoholic.
Pulling himself up off of the cot, he dashed his tongue out to wet his lips as he stood and headed toward the small dining area. About halfway there, he heard footsteps from somewhere else in the room and he turned his head suspiciously.
He wasn't paranoid, he just didn't have a whole lot of friends in this safehouse and there weren't many people he was willing to converse with for an extended period of time. Fortunately for him, Emily was one of the few he was willing to talk to.
Unfortunately, he saw that she had her hand on her gun, even if it wasn't out of her pocket yet.