She stared at him, squinting, as though he were very far away, or obscured by a bright light and she was trying to decipher his form. Of course, by some accounts, that was exactly what she was trying to do.
“You’re staring at me,” he says simply. It is not a judgment, merely an observation. “Now, I know I’m attractive, but honestly, Evans, control yourself!” She laughs at him, then looks away shaking her head. “Really though, is there something on my face?”
“No,” she chuckles, “No, of course there’s not. And I wasn’t looking at your face anyway.”
He raises an eyebrow, “What were you looking at then?”
She bites her lip and thinks for a moment. “Your soul,” she answers as honestly as she can.
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