Evan seemed unperturbed- if he had seen or heard Alistair, he did not act on it. His mind, however, remained a hornet's nest of paranoid contemplation. He slowed to a stop, kneeling; his hands carefully peeled the pant leg up his shoe. Evan's other foot angled itself oddly, drifting back and forth, his leg relaxed. His laces were firmly tied- in fact, the knot had been burnt, effectively fusing the nylon drawstrings into balls of ocher plastic. His hands went through the motions of tightening his shoe anyways- it would give the would-be-detective all the time in the world to make up his mind. He'd find out whether Alistair had really intended to follow him- for better or for worse.