With a derisive snort at the man's pathetic excuse for his lack of manners, Evan rolled his eyes and shrugged a shoulder. Biting back a comment about having seen runners with more manners than this guy, he decided that stoking the fire or fanning the flames was probably not wise, as much as he was sorely tempted to do it. "Well that's clear," he finally decided on. He wasn't going to just let it go, of course. That wasn't Evan's style.
As if it was second nature, because now it was, Evan tossed the survival knife at a shuffler that was blocking their path, then sliced at him, knocking him down to the ground and stomping his head in.
Shaking his foot off and watching a large clump of gore fall off his boot, he cringed. No matter how many times he'd stomped a head in, it was still disgusting. That and he liked these boots. He'd more than likely be cleaning gunk out of them for months. At the half-assed acknowledgement of how pathetic his apology was, Evan shook his head. Gratitude and humility were hard to come by nowadays, and he'd learned awhile ago not to expect it from anyone he rescued. Pushing a hand through his hair, he shook his bangs back from his eyes and turned his eyes back to the other man, just in time to see him frown. Well that was unexpected. He'd come to expect insolence or coldness from this guy in the past few minutes that they'd spoken, and quiet vulnerability was a surprise.
Shaking off the surprise, Evan pulled his survival knife from the shuffler on the ground, wiped it down and slid it into his belt. Everyone nowadays had a vulnerability. Some were weaker and some were stronger, and he was sure that this guy didn't want to think of whatever his own vulnerability was.
Once again, Evan was surprised when the guy introduced himself, and even more when he asked for a name. There was no need to say anything, but this was the longest conversation he'd had in months. It was that reason alone that he felt inclined to answer the question, dispite the piss-poor attitude that the guy – Lukas – had given him. "Evan," he said simply. "Call me Evan." Last names didn't matter anymore, unless you were looking for someone in particular, so he'd long ago stopped giving his out.