[Running is dangerous, and while Evelyn considers herself a savant of dangerous situations and the escaping thereof this is one particular scenario that she can see having only a few endings (and most of them aren't pretty). Dean's intentions are not pure but neither do they seem exceptionally volatile at the moment, hovering in her atmosphere as though he were taking in lungfuls of her fading perfume.
As soon as his eyes drop she folds her arms over her chest - as though a woman wouldn't be wearing silky intimates in her own bed, for Heaven's sake - and she bites her tongue from the first snippy retort. All it would take is the smallest of tipping points before he crushed her windpipe, snapped her neck, or-
-or worse.
There is always something worse, judging by his curiousity. Gently, discomfited by the suggestively wandering gaze, Evelyn tilts his chin back up with one hand.]
no subject
As soon as his eyes drop she folds her arms over her chest - as though a woman wouldn't be wearing silky intimates in her own bed, for Heaven's sake - and she bites her tongue from the first snippy retort. All it would take is the smallest of tipping points before he crushed her windpipe, snapped her neck, or-
-or worse.
There is always something worse, judging by his curiousity. Gently, discomfited by the suggestively wandering gaze, Evelyn tilts his chin back up with one hand.]
...You didn't leave me any feet, did you?