Oh, no. [Evan inclined his head, giving the man a wary look.] No, I see a semantic trap when I see one.

You're doing something and I don't take kindly to it.

[He'd finished up shoveling charcoal into leaf wrappings and then into his backpack. He wiped his hands off on his now very cruddy jeans and straightened, heart rabbiting behind his ribs.]

I don't know what you are or how you know what you know and frankly I'm not interested in finding out. [Evidently fear dulled his natural curiosity.] If you'll excuse me I've got to get back to the tree.