Though he was an artist, he knew that fixing things that a child of Marigold's age contributed would do little but squash her enthusiasm. And she seemed to have that in spades, so Evan wouldn't want to do anything to ruin that. Not that he was trying to squash Leah's enthusiasm... it was just... old habits died hard, he supposed.
He scoffed, wide-eyed, when Leah toppled the whole tower he'd just completed into a mass of sand in front of him. His eyes held no frustration, still amusement, and he looked dramatically at the pile of sand, then back up at Leah, dramatically pouting his lip out. Apparently, vacations turned him ridiculous and silly. Who knew? He watched her hand move to the shell and tilt it back, with a soft sigh of resignation. “I see how it goes,” he spoke in faux-accusation. Now that he'd been called out on it, he was more than willing to reign it in, but as was another old habit, he wasn't going down without a fight.
When she swatted his shoulder, he moved dramatically with the shoulder swat and held his shoulder like he'd been shot. “Oof. Quite a whallop, Queen Leah,” he grinned, the grin only growing when Marigold started laughing. He lowered his hand from his arm and relaxed, glancing at the pile of sand that had once been the west tower and starting to rebuild it.
“All right, you've made your point,” he stopped what he was doing, holding his hand up in concession, smile wilting to a little bit of a smirk. He'd really only been trying to play around—well, that and a little bit of artistic instinct—but he could see how it could be interpreted as obnoxious.
“Oh-ho-ho, ganging up on me, I see,” Evan turned his attention to Marigold, who was still giggling like crazy. “You know what that means, don't you?” He wiggled his fingers in a tickling motion and started tickling the little girl's tummy and sides.