[ Careful, Damon. She can add anyone else to her license or dissolve it at any time. (Except she won't.) And there it is. Elena stares without a single thought at the band suddenly encircling her wrist. Representing what, exactly?
Her exhale is much too pronounced and shallow to be not actually aggravated with his reaction. Elena drops her wrist after staring at it, looks up at him with all the snark she can muster. (It's considerable.) ] At least it matches your eyes. [ If she were any other girl, the thought of said eyes or casually noticing them in flirty grey-area might result in a sucker punch to her gut, she's sure.
(It's more of an unwelcome twist. Those eyes have no power over her.) ]