Fortunately, Evan's confidence wasn't so shaken by the incident to fall victim to Stone's barb. Yeah, he was bothered. Yeah, it bugged him that he'd been so careless as to fall on his knife. But it had happened. It sucked, but life went on… as much as life could go on with the present state of things, anyway. He wasn't going to let his long-time nemesis get to him with a well placed comment about a shortcoming that he was more than aware of. He just shrugged. "I'd prefer both, but if I can run fast enough then I don't always need grace. Besides, at least I didn't let some kid shoot me in the foot." His voice wasn't angry, he was still smooth and confident, and he still didn't turn and look at her. If he hadn't known better, he would have called that a joke. Fortunately, he knew better.
That was more like it. Interactions were supposed to be terse between the two of them. It was just the way that things went. She was a bitch, he was an asshole, and when they clashed the earth shook. But there was no earthquake, no fearful clash of the titans this time… not yet. And it was most certainly worthy of concern.
For the first time ever (or at least the first time he could remember), one of Leah's comments made Evan laugh out of amusement, not out of some sarcastic sense of irony. He shrugged. "I'd toss another slice in there for good measure. Getting down to the torso means sudden death, and then slicing the torso in half means you win," he mused.
"Oh, we know a lot more than you think," he responded easily, not giving in to the barb about his culture either. What was today, some sort of unspoken "take the high road" day or something? "Champagne, wine, cheese… you haven't smoked a real cigarette until you've smoked a Gauloises," he explained, sounding almost conversational in response to Stone's sarcasm. It was a backhanded way to tease her, perhaps, because he knew the woman's affinity to nicotine rivaled even his, but he'd never admit it.
However, the whole tone of the conversation was different, the second the ring came into play. Evan's chest felt tight, and all kinds of emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time bubbled within. He swallowed back a lump in his throat and lowered his head. This was the last conversation he ever wanted to have with anyone. But of course, fate being the cruel mistress that she was, it had to be with Stone. "Je pense que… um, sorry uh… I think that… I think you're wearing my wife's… my wife's engagement ring," he said, turning his head and looking away from her because he refused… flat-out refused… to let her see him cry.
But she asked him another question. He turned his head back to her, eyes glistening as he thought of Olivia and the way he'd been forced to… the way he'd had to leave her. Because he wasn't brave enough to save her. "I had a wife," he responded. "I met her when I was thirteen. And we got married when I was twenty and she was nineteen. And that… I think that was the ring I gave her. There should be an inscription on the inside…" he closed his eyes, remembering word for word the phrase he'd asked them to inscribe on the ring. "Heart, are you great enough for a love that never tires?"
He wouldn't ask for it back. He couldn't. His pride was already wounded enough by letting her see him like this. He just hoped that somewhere in that Stone heart (pun intended), she had some kind of mercy.