Despite how many times she's argued with Jacob about being off gallivanting around instead of focusing on more serious pursuits, Evie knows he's not stupid. He's actually very bright, and if he wanted to, he could help her with her research — which is probably part of what's at the root of her frustration every time they butt heads over strategy or methodology. Given enough time for self-reflection, she does realize she's expecting him to try to be something he's not — she's expecting him to try to be her, and maybe that isn't entirely fair of her.
But now, of course, he gives her that look, and that's really enough to make her lift her chin slightly and put both hands on her hips in a stubborn defensive posture she falls into almost reflexively. There may never be a time when Evie says the words Piece of Eden and Jacob doesn't choose to be, well, a bit of a tit about it.
"Jacob, really—" There's more she could say there, for God's sake would you just listen for once, but she cuts herself off forcibly. His last words visibly startle her, prepared as she was for another confrontation the likes of which they've had too often in recent memory. And then she just sort of... deflates a little bit, hands relaxing at her sides as she looks away. When she meets his gaze again, it's with a bit of a rueful look.
She'd meant it when she'd said she missed him, after they fought Starrick. She'd missed when they'd been able to work together instead of fighting each other constantly. What's most important of all, everything else aside, is that Jacob is her brother and she loves him — and maybe she ought to remind herself of that more often.
"It's a place to start," she suggests, and that's a concession to the fact that she might be wrong. "Frankly I think I'd prefer it if this place wasn't the doing of a precursor artifact of any sort." The trouble with the Pieces of Eden is they're a bit unpredictable. The Apples could control minds, impart information, bestow what looked like miracles; the Shroud, or at least the one they retrieved from Starrick under Buckingham Palace, provided virtual immortality. But there's still so much Evie doesn't know, even with all her research. If this place is the work of a person or organization instead, then perhaps that's something a bit more comprehensible, easier to define and easier to tear down.
She arches her brows a little. "And what did you have in mind for this place?" she says, an obvious attempt to bridge things between them by inviting his input. And here she smirks a little, and bumps his shoulder with hers, just briefly. "Sir Frye."
The knighthood is still new and strange, and he can tease her about it right back.
oh no i love these two a lot, send help
But now, of course, he gives her that look, and that's really enough to make her lift her chin slightly and put both hands on her hips in a stubborn defensive posture she falls into almost reflexively. There may never be a time when Evie says the words Piece of Eden and Jacob doesn't choose to be, well, a bit of a tit about it.
"Jacob, really—" There's more she could say there, for God's sake would you just listen for once, but she cuts herself off forcibly. His last words visibly startle her, prepared as she was for another confrontation the likes of which they've had too often in recent memory. And then she just sort of... deflates a little bit, hands relaxing at her sides as she looks away. When she meets his gaze again, it's with a bit of a rueful look.
She'd meant it when she'd said she missed him, after they fought Starrick. She'd missed when they'd been able to work together instead of fighting each other constantly. What's most important of all, everything else aside, is that Jacob is her brother and she loves him — and maybe she ought to remind herself of that more often.
"It's a place to start," she suggests, and that's a concession to the fact that she might be wrong. "Frankly I think I'd prefer it if this place wasn't the doing of a precursor artifact of any sort." The trouble with the Pieces of Eden is they're a bit unpredictable. The Apples could control minds, impart information, bestow what looked like miracles; the Shroud, or at least the one they retrieved from Starrick under Buckingham Palace, provided virtual immortality. But there's still so much Evie doesn't know, even with all her research. If this place is the work of a person or organization instead, then perhaps that's something a bit more comprehensible, easier to define and easier to tear down.
She arches her brows a little. "And what did you have in mind for this place?" she says, an obvious attempt to bridge things between them by inviting his input. And here she smirks a little, and bumps his shoulder with hers, just briefly. "Sir Frye."
The knighthood is still new and strange, and he can tease her about it right back.