Evan paused when she started snapping at him; maybe he'd taken things a little too far by throwing that barb at her. Still, it was something of a triumph to know that he was better at keeping his cool than she was. And even though she'd lost her cool, it wasn't nearly as much of a low blow as he expected it to be, so he took a bit of solace in that. "You let me guard your back because despite an awkward affinity toward falling on my own blade, I have an equally strong affinity toward protecting others. Luckily for you."
Snorting a laugh at the thought of all French things being unhealthy by American standards, Evan shrugged his agreement. "Unhealthy, maybe. But enjoyable. Besides that, I hardly think that the great majority of most Americans could decide what's good and what's not. Are you not considered among the most gluttonous cultures out there?" It wasn't a barb at her so much as a barb toward American culture, but still, he expected it not to go over so well.
He watched her make a grab for his pack of smokes and instinct told him to stop her. To tell her to back the fuck off because he'd been the one to work for those and he'd been the one who'd practically gotten his leg gnawed in half for them, but he realized something. She'd take them anyway. Playing into exactly what she wanted him to do wouldn't make it any better. So, he just shook his head and took another drag from his own smoke, before digging his lighter out of his pocket to throw to her.
He didn't know what was up with himself; being nice to Stone and all, but he wasn't sure if he liked it. It was easier to be an asshole. And safer.
But it was too late to take it back now. He only hoped that she saw that it was an uncharacteristic kindness and actually gave the thing back. He'd had that lighter for quite some time. It was his grandfather's and one of the few things he actually had with him from back in France.
For a second, Evan began to worry that she wasn't going to return the ring. At first, she looked angry, or at the very least frustrated with something, and Evan felt his heart sink. He wouldn't beg—he refused to be reduced to begging to someone he had a mutual dislike with—but he wanted it back. Needed it back. And he still wasn't sure why. Closure? No. He'd never get closure until he knew that she was dead, and even then he wouldn't get it because he knew that he hadn't been man enough to save her. Sentimentality? Again, no, because as he'd told everyone else for the longest time, sentimentality had no place in today's world. If you were sentimental, you got killed. Plain and simple. So why did he want it back? And did he really think that Leah the Looter was going to just hand it over?
Except… she did. Evan stared at it for a second, blinking and feeling his breath catch in his throat. He remembered the look on Olivia's face when he gave it to her. He remembered the moment in the restaurant when he'd done as so many men had done before and, without a care, interrupted a room full of people dining to get down on one knee and propose. Every single memory he had with Olivia came flooding back to him in one moment of pure emotion and he found himself choking on his attempt not to cry.
A tear leaked out unbidden, and he quickly wiped it away, closing his eyes and trying to will any followers away for a little while longer. When he was sure he'd succeeded, he turned around and looked at Leah as she retreated. "Wait," he called out, jogging up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder to get her to stop. Why, he didn't know. He was still unsure that he even wanted to ask her to wait.
So… what now? "Thank you," he started with. "Seriously. Thank you. What do you want in return?" he asked. Stone wasn't altruistic, he knew that. She'd want something. If Evan could give it, he would.