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Evan looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was coming down the hall before ducking into the room and quietly shutting the door behind himself. That was quickly turning into a conversation he didn't want anyone else to hear; there were some things the entire Life division didn't need to know.

His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch as Sasha let her hair down. He was so tempted to give in and just say yes, to end this entire awkward conversation and bring them both back to even, familiar ground, but he was afraid that it would crush this fragile bundle of possibilities beyond repair. He would happily share with her all the great sex she wanted, but he couldn't stand wondering what if?

He leaned against the door, resolutely ignoring her hands in favor of her questions. "It was amazing sex," he agreed. "Beyond amazing. I can have amazing sex any time, though; friends are in shorter supply around here. Given the choice, I'd rather have a friend with benefits than just a ******** buddy."

It was crude, perhaps, but Evan wasn't known for his eloquence. Above all else, he was honest. "No one's perfect, Sasha. Especially around here," he pointed out. "We've all got parts of ourselves that I'm sure we'd rather not have, but they're there whether we like them or not." She had shown him the feral, primal side of herself last night. She had scratched away the thin veneer of civility his need for violence lived trapped behind. He hated that it was there, but she had demanded it of him. More than that, she had accepted it. She'd welcomed it. Maybe that was why he was pushing for more than just sex.

"What if it is enough?"

Evan's eyes zeroed in on that pale, perfect stretch of skin that the tilt of Sasha's head revealed. The night before, he had marked it with his teeth; today, it was pristine again. It taunted him, and he took a deep breath to steady his resolve.

"Ally, huh?" He hummed, considering. "I'll take it." For now. Ally was a little more businesslike than he had hoped for, but friend could be a goal he could work towards. Maybe friendship had been presumptuous of him to ask for anyway, but he liked to aim big.

He chuckled as she brought up the subject of breakfast. "It could, if you want. What do you have against breakfast, anyway?"

Evan sighed, content, as dug her nails into his chest. He reached out to snag her around the waist, pulling her closer, encouraging. It made him happy to hear that she would go so far as to rearrange her plans to accommodate his whims.

"Yeah, I can do that," he replied. Breakfast was something of a specialty for him. He didn't need to make poached eggs often, but they seemed somehow fitting for Sasha: more complicated than it needed to be, but still delicate and delicious if done right. "Might have to push it to the day after, though. I may have..." he didn't want to say company--even though that's what it was--despite her assertion that she didn't care who he slept with. He had some sense of tact. "Plans."

Her own kitchen. Her own bathroom. They wouldn't have to leave for anything except duty until they ran out of food. Evan squirmed against the door, against Sasha, and it wasn't just because of the press of her nails. His hands tightened unconsciously on her hips as the possibilities ran through his mind, his thumbs pressing against the hard bones he could feel even through layers of fabric.

"I'll remember that," he said, his voice low and his smile warm.

Plans could be changed. Nora was probably just going to kick him out of bed anyway--literally. Her restless leg syndrome had seen him starting his day earlier than he had planned more often than not.

Evan's smile turned confused and curious at Sasha's seemingly random question. "Red," he replied cautiously. "Why? What's yours?"

It was hard for Evan to reconcile the demanding hellcat who had scratched him until he'd bled with the smiling, delicate-looking waif he in his arms now. She liked pink, for God's sake, such a light and girlish color that he could maybe see in the woman he'd held until he'd fallen asleep, but not at all in the one who had come to his door that night.

His disbelief died in his throat before he could give it a voice as he bent at her whim, curious but obliging. His eyes narrowed, but his smile was pleased at the feel of her teeth on his chin. He didn't follow her, not right away; he was trying to be good, dammit, considering their semi-public location, but she wasn't making it easy.

"Beer," he laughed instead. "It's like you know me already." Sasha wasn't too far off. A nice, bleeding-rare cut of meat, some potatoes--and, yes, a beer or three--was enough to make him happy. He liked that she had offered, that she had invited.

One hand reached around to slide up her back and into her hair. He gripped just tight enough to hold her head steady, then bent down to press a soft, sweet kiss to her lips. It was brief, and he broke it with a careful, deliberate n** to her lower lip. He pulled back just enough to say, "I'd be happy to go with you," before gently releasing her and straightening, smirking smugly down at her.

Evan nodded, unashamed to admit it. Sasha already knew he liked dirty sex, after all, and who didn't like beer? He let her slip through his hands as she moved away, though he was tempted to follow after her. "Sorry," he said, completely unrepentant to the point of outright lying. "Tomorrow evening...and the morning after?" He really, really wanted to make her breakfast.

There were advantages to both, Evan figured. At least if they stayed in her room, they wouldn't have to get dressed in order to have breakfast. Maybe next time; baby steps. They could have their morning after, and that was the important part.

"Seven works for me. I can be wherever you want me, just let me know." The where didn't matter to him as much as the what and who and how.

"Okay," Evan agreed. "Looking forward to it."

It was at that point that he should have made his farewells and left. He had interrupted Sasha's research, and he was running late with his own tasks.

Instead, he watched Sasha as she watched him. After a moment of consideration, he reached behind himself and locked the door instead. Sasha's books would still be there later, after all, and late was late. If Ami was going to kill him anyway, he might as well die a happy man.