Evan didn't have anything alcoholic in the apartment, but he poured them both glasses of seltzer water, and he pushed one of the glasses in Loki's direction on the counter. If what Loki was saying ruffled him, it didn't show on the surface, and he just took a sip of the sparkling water and looked at the other man over the edge of the glass. He didn't hurry a response, didn't rise to the bait, and he only grinned a dimpled grin as he lowered the glass again.
One hip propped back against the counter, and he opened a drawer beside that hip and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the pack on the counter, all lazy wrist and enough confidence to watch the cigarette come free with uncreased blue eyes, not showing a hint of concern at looking away from the man in the kitchen with him.
"The fact that you're here," Evan finally said, lifting the cigarette to his lips and lighting it, "proves he's still there somewhere. He'll come back," he said with that same steady surety, the one that never warbled. "You're not real. He is." He shrugged his shoulders, as if that as just truth, irrefutable.
"As for whether or not he's my lover, I would say it's none of your business, but I don't care what you say or think, man." It was true, and it came across as truth. "It's not you I give a shit about."