“Hmm, I don’t trust you with my hair, so no thank you.” Reza shrugged. With the way Evanora was, he wouldn’t be surprised if she did something unpleasant to his crown of hair. She might have his full confidence in having his back in a fight against the Gods, but not with his hair. They weren’t close like that, after all.
He was already calling for the bartender and ordered a long island iced tea, extra sweet, and asked the bartender to put it under Evanora’s tab, before turning his attention to Evanora. “Thanks, but I prefer to enjoy my drink instead of having it taste like the way you look, pretty.” He’d leave the brooding to Evanora and enjoyed his drink on her dime. “Besides, I like my drink to have those little umbrellas. They make it look fun.”
He shouldn't trust her with anything — not just his hair. She'd have his head on a spike, if Helia wouldn't have her ass right after that. An enemy, she did not wish to make of her. Yet, the witch would doubt Helia could ever be as hostile to Evanora, hold a grudge or punish her for a horrible deed — in the end, who would she choose to have by her side? Definitelly not Reza. An answer too obvious, that added to Ray's already blown up ego.
"You keep calling me that, I'll have you shit bricks for a week." delivered with a smirk, of course. Two, three — several shots in, and she might tolerate his company.
Another shot flew her way — slit across the bar surface, with whatever mocktail Reza ordered that looked like fucking hello kitty exploded in that glass — tasted like it too, probably.
"Suit yourself." she downed her shot. "Drink fucking gasoline — see if I care."















