Somehow, pursuit hadn't been expected, even though giving his back to the Dark Urge already had a very predictable pattern. At least part of it, that niggling, stupid mental image that had been plaguing him since that last heavy discussion. Something even then he had acknowledged was likely his own imagining.

There the man was, with literal mobs willing to throw themselves at him.

Easier prey, even.

So even though something stirs in his belly, the color that reaches his face could be a blush or something else. Enver is just irritated enough that when caught, the start from suddenly being cornered hits him with just enough adrenaline the wrong way for his immediate reaction to be one of frustrated anger.

"What the HELLS are you doing here?" he demands.

And he regrets it. Even though no one else is watching it's more reacting than he should be doing. It's downright churlish. And he won't take it back, either.