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Evan had only noticed because Chel was supposed to relieve him from pod duty and had never shown up. Because he was, by and large, a responsible adult, he had stuck around until the Hunter who was scheduled for podwatching after Chel had shown up.

His a** hurt from sitting in chairs that the Lifers had to have made special to ensure that those unfortunate enough to draw pod duty got their fair share of suffering. He was hungry and annoyed and the last place he should have gone was to track down Chel to give her a piece of his mind considering what had happened the last time she had made him mad, but he found himself knocking none too gently on her bedroom door anyway.

And maybe he missed her a little, too. He was still mad at her, and his trust in her was all but gone, but he wanted to see her anyway. It was like picking at a scab you knew would bleed but had to rip off just on the off chance the wound would magically heal itself.

The sound of Chel's voice just made Evan angrier and suddenly this was a terrible idea, but he couldn't not go through with it. He bulled his way through the door and used maybe a little too much force to close it. Wisely, he didn't get close enough to be within arm's reach of her. "You forget how to tell time, Craft?"

At one time, Chel's good humor would have been met with an exasperated sigh and an indulgent head shake. Now, it did nothing to dent Evan's grim scowl. "You missed your assigned rotation, is sup," he growled in response.

"I'm not usually the one picking up your slack. It'd be nice if you could at least pretend to give a ******** about your job." Evan didn't even know why he was bothering; Chel was paying more attention to her stupid phone than to him. He took her invitation to come closer, but didn't lay in bed. Instead, he leaned over and plucked the phone out of her hands. "Don't ignore me while I'm yelling at you, Craft, it's rude," he said as he put it in his pocket.

"Then give a ******** about the people who have to do your job for you when you don't feel like it." Evan rolled his eyes as Chel childishly turned her back on him.

It was times like these--and they were rare, even now--that he wondered why he even made the effort with her. Sure, she was a lot of fun, and up until the moment she had compromised his trust, she had been a great friend, but she never took anything seriously. It was an endearing trait, but by no means a good one. "How did you even make it to full Hunter, anyway? It's supposed to be a position of more responsibility, not less."

It was a nice a**, Evan had to admit. Still, "It would be like you to sleep your way to a promotion," he muttered, only half-meaning it. Talking to Chel was like talking to a hot, sassy brick wall--it always had been, but now it was more annoying than entertaining.

He didn't really want to sit down, either. He hadn't planned on staying longer than it took for him to tell her, futilely, to get her s**t together, but part of him missed hanging out with her. He sighed and conceded enough of his anger and pride to sit at the edge of her bed. He could still leave if he wanted to, he told himself. "You do have cooties," he said. "And you're probably contagious."

"I'm not a soldier," Evan protested halfheartedly. He stiffened but didn't pull away as Chel draped herself over him, though he didn't do anything to encourage her attentions, either. He was still annoyed with her, but more than that, he didn't feel like he had the right; the last time he had touched her had hardly been friendly, after all.

"Found your one-eyed friend in the Haunted House," he said mildly. "I was gonna cut off his head and mount it on my wall, but I guess it doesn't work like that." Maybe now she would push him away. He couldn't--and wouldn't--meet her terms for forgiveness anyway, not with any kind of honesty.