The panic bells are definitely going off in Evan's head now. A kind of stubborn, urgent need to justify himself makes it so he doesn't feel like he can back off, but another more sensible part of him is yelling at the rest not to finish digging his own grave, here.

Bur rather than retreat, he tries again. "That's not what I meant at all," he backpedals. But what did he mean? "I meant, like, statistically, of course there's a range of normal, there's always a bell curve. I mean, there are people on the other end, you know, the kind of people who think oh, that sandwich looks sad, and suddenly don't want to eat it anymore, but you wouldn't call them wired wrong, right?" No, just weird. He would call them weird. He decides not to articulate that thought, and he's turning red with the embarrassment of how badly he's flailing here.