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It was something of a relief when Stormy finally exploded, and Evan nodded along with her in ignorant encouragement as she ranted. He had no idea what had happened between Stormy and Nevada, but it wasn't important now; it was a small island, someone else would know. The important part was that Stormy was letting it out now, hurling the words into the open air instead of keeping them trapped inside where they could fester and rot her from within.

"You did so much for her, Stormy, you tried so hard," he prodded. "You two were best friends, at least at one point--maybe they just didn't care as much as you did."

Evan's immediate instinct was to reach out and stop the bottle from shattering against the wall, but he suppressed it with a twitch of protest from his fingers. Instead, he turned his face away as the glass exploded close enough for him to have to worry about taking slivers in the eye. His Fear shield would protect him from that, he figured, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. He was more concerned about how he was going to get the sudden, sweet smell of cake out of the room.

At least it seemed like they had finally dug down deep enough to reach an actual problem. "Is that why you're mad at her?" Evan asked. "You were there for her, you did all that for her, and she left you for someone else?"

Evan quieted obediently as Stormy yelled at him, not because she had demanded it, but because she looked like she was doing just fine purging everything she had kept inside all by herself. He didn't understand most of what she was saying, but the force, the passion she was speaking with was something he had never seen in her before. He had guessed the real Stormy had been hiding somewhere inside that happy shell she had built around herself, but he hadn't imagined she was capable of this.

Then Stormy was purging in a completely different way. Evan tried not to watch or listen as he made his way over to her, glass crunching under his boots and embedding itself in the carpet fibers. He gave her a wide berth as she vomited, ending up slightly behind her, out of the direct line of fire. He settled on his knees at her side, rubbing her back comfortingly. "It's okay," he soothed. "Let it all the bad stuff out."

Well, at least now he wouldn't have to worry about his room smelling like cake. Evan made himself a mental note to have more bright ideas like this outside.

Maybe he deserved this, he thought, for pushing Stormy so hard, so quickly. A puddle of puke was a small price to pay, though, for dragging the honest and angry core of her out of all her armor. She would feel better now, and she'd get over her hurt, and she would move on and be a stronger person for it. That was the way things worked, after all.

"Yeah," Evan replied, all too eager to rise and get just a little more distance from the mess he was going to have to clean up. The same hand that had offered Stormy the bottle now reached down towards her, an offer to help her up. "I can help you to your room, or if you want to get cleaned up first...just let me know what you want to do."

Evan hovered even as Stormy refused help beyond a hand up, sympathetic towards her sorry, alcohol-induced state but determined to help. He hurried ahead to open the door for her, keeping one watchful, wary eye on her, in case the wall wasn't enough to keep her upright.

"Do you want anything?" Evan asked, genuine in his intent but also wanting to fill the air with more than the sudden, fragile silence and the pungent smell of vomit. It would have to be dealt with, but helping Stormy through this was infinitely more important. "I can make you some coffee, or see if they have something down in the labs that might help."