"If you wanted me dead, you'd be dead," Leah countered, mirroring the man's smirk. The argument of who would kill whom was an old one, but it was one they engaged in frequently and with habit. They both knew she had never killed a living person before, nor would her first kill be Evan, despite how hard he strummed on her last nerve.
She laughed when he amended her rule about no kicking when sparring with ice skates. "No kicking useful people. I can work with that. It'd be fun to sort people into lists of Useful and Not Useful, too."
"Tempting as it may be to count the number of times you fall on your ass while wearing ice skates, I'm gonna say no. I've got someone to go ice skating with me this year." That was as far as she was willing to discuss her not-quite romantic life. "The rink would be a good meet-up place, though. I'll give you that. Plus, zombies trying to walk on ice? Fucking hilarious."
She canted her head to one side and shrugged. "Depends on whether you think I'm joking about skate-fighting being an actual thing. If hockey players can do it, why can't we? You'll definitely need the practice if you go up against me."
Leah never knew how to take serious compliments from people she used to actively hate. There was always that expectation of 'you're good at this, but...' Because there was always a but in there somewhere; something added that would take away from the compliment itself, in which case Leah would respond with a caustic retort. So when Evan told her she had her moments of braininess, Leah waited for a but that didn't come, and wasn't sure how to respond.
Nor did she know what exactly to say to his next words. "You either can't think of anyone else, or you have low standards." Leah stood up from her chair. Time to leave before the conversation became too weird and personal. "I should get back to MSG before I'm missed."