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The woman struggled and fought but in the end she was a civilian, runic knife or not. Sasha and Evan would find themselves with a body on their hands, and if Evan didn't moderate his strength, a body she would remain.

The sharp pain in Evan's leg blazed white-hot as Sasha yanked the knife out of it. He swallowed the roar of pain and outrage that bubbled up, releasing it instead as a slow, measured exhalation. "No," he ground out and it was barely a word, wrapped as it was around an angry growl.

He forced his tense muscles to relax as he felt the woman go limp in his arms. Scooping her up bridal style gave him an excuse not to look at Sasha. He was mad that she had caused him unnecessary pain, yes, but more than that he was hurt that she had done so and confused as to why she did. This was neither the time nor place, though. She didn't seem to be in any mood to talk and the job at hand took priority, always.

The elevator dinged cheerily as it reached their floor.

Evan took another deep breath at Sasha's apology, this time to give everything it would have been unwise to say at that exact moment some time to pass. "Can we not do this right now?" He asked instead, disbelief still coloring his tone despite his attempts to keep it neutral. "I'm bleeding and I don't want to leave a trail for her friends to follow, and you need to get the door."

He took a hesitant step after Sasha and was relieved to find that whatever the two of them had done to his leg hadn't severed any ligaments or damaged any muscles. The wound hurt as he followed Sasha down the hall, but it was nothing that would need more than a bandage after a good night's rest to let Gir do his job. That was fine. Pain was something he had learned to embrace, but the feeling of his own blood running slick and sticky down his leg was something he could never quite get used to.

It was probably a charged kind of silence, but Evan's mind wasn't on it. His goals for the next few minutes were simple: get them into the room, put the woman down, retreat into the bathroom to take care of his injury, and stay the hell out of Sasha's way while doing all of that. He didn't know what had set her off to cause such a radical mood swing, but he didn't like being the target of her anger. He hadn't done anything to cause it that he could recall, which he figured meant he had probably done everything to cause it and just didn't realize it.

He was all too happy to set the other woman down, toeing off his stiff shoes and too-slick socks as he watched Sasha bind her to the chair. Points for creativity--he probably had actual rope or duct tape or something in his bag somewhere, but he could admire Sasha's resourcefulness--but he was going to have to find something to stem the bleeding.

He had already started undoing his belt--and considering the merits of using it as a tourniquet versus his tie--when Sasha broke the silence. He looked up at her, nonplussed, before sighing and nodding. "Not here," he said, heading into the bathroom. He carefully stepped out of his pants, which were far beyond ruined, and draped them over the edge of the tub. He frowned as he inspected the wound. It was a little longer than it needed to be, a little wider where Sasha had been indelicate with the removal of the knife, and still bleeding freely.

"I heard you," Evan replied, removing his coat and tie and shirt. They could be salvaged, at least. Left in his boxers, he took one of the neatly folded washcloths from the bathroom counter and turned the tap on, soaking it and wringing it dry before dabbing carefully at the wound.

The once-pristine cloth quickly turned red, but he kept at it, deliberately not looking up at Sasha. "It might," he said. "Would that make you happy?"

Evan let Sasha take the washcloth from him, leaning back with his hands against the counter to keep them out of her way. He kept a close and cautious eye on her as she took over. The muscles in his leg twitched at her lack of care, but he reached for the first aid kit instead of her hands.

"And I appreciate that, baby," Evan replied as he rummaged through it. He would have done the same for her, honestly--she wouldn't have even had to have gotten stabbed first. "But we need her, and I don't know why you had to pull the knife out like that. That's probably why it's bleeding so much," he informed her, fishing out the little bottle of antiseptic and reluctantly handing it over.

If he was--which he wasn't--at least he was doing it in a language that they both understood. Evan held his tongue as Sasha applied the antiseptic, wincing at the sharp sting. "It's okay," he said, forcing a grin for her. "It's over, it's done. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we can enjoy the rest of the week." No artifact fetch quests, no strange women, no sharp objects, just the two of them and as much time in bed as they could manage. That didn't require too much thought. He figured Sasha would be much less volatile when someone wasn't trying to maim them.

"Do you have a sewing kit?" Evan called after Sasha. "We could stitch it shut, I guess. There's some gauze in the first aid kit, but that's about it."

"Not a problem," Evan said. He propped the foot of his injured leg up on the side of the tub, placing the gauze over the wound before reaching for his discarded tie. He looked up at Sasha as she came back in before wrapping the tie around his leg to hold the gauze in place. It wasn't pretty, but it would last long enough for Gir to finish doing his job. Already he could feel the itch of the wound repairing itself at the deepest parts; this was just damage control. Blood was a b***h to get out of anything.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he moved towards Sasha, reaching out to tug her into his arms. He didn't like being out of sorts with her, not knowing where they stood and why. She had seemed fine up until dinner, and then things had just kind of gone downhill from there.

It was sweet, though, that she seemed so...protective was probably not the right word. Maybe proactively on the offensive. Whatever it was, they were on the same page there. That, at least, was reassuring.

He bent his head to press a kiss to the top of hers. "We should probably wake our guest up soon," he murmured. "You gonna be okay for the interrogation?"