For a second, Evan thought of George, who made that same argument; that doing something was better than doing nothing. She would be so angry if she heard him saying that exact same thing to a stranger. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest but he ignored it. He'd deal with it more appropriately later. "I think this is a perfect example of exactly what can go wrong when you sit on your hands and don't know what to look for," he said, turning his head to look at the chaos still breaking outside. "And hey, medical expertise is just as important as anything else nowadays. Maybe more, even. People get banged up all the time. King of grace, right here," he joked.
Was it tolerable at Grand Central? The thought was laughable more than anything. The people there were… not exactly the easiest to get along with. The guards were miserable and aside from Danny (and George when they could actually talk for more than two minutes without wanting to kill one another), he mostly kept to himself there. But this guy looked like he needed some sort of hope, and maybe it was the pain medication talking, but Evan was willing to help him out.
"It's tolerable, sure. It's always pretty full, and it's pretty well reinforced," he offered with a lopsided smile. "Something to d- oh, you mean read? I guess I hadn't thought of it. It's been a long while since I've read something new. I usually draw to pass the time," he added as an afterthought.
Ill and irritable? Sounded like an average Tuesday to Evan. He accepted the bottle of antibiotic gratefully and nodded his head in understanding of what the guy was saying. "Thanks," he muttered, definitely not accustomed to expressing gratitude to anyone. "And thanks again, for this," he motioned to his side.