He had long since grown accustomed to the other showing up uninvited, but only recently did it begin to feel like routine. It had dawned on him when he was peering over the top of a book he was reading absently, wondering when his solitude would be broken (his reaction had been to scoff at the idea, denying the thought any weight). If his daily living went uninterrupted for larger gaps of time than the norm, he found he almost felt worried; but he just brushed it off as paranoia over when the other would show up once more.

Over a month—nearly two—had passed since the last visit.

He wasn't worried.

He certainly was not put off. What did he care if that idiot no longer felt the need to barge into his house? Good riddance.

It was with a stubborn scowl that he mentally shook all thoughts of the man out of his head before returning to the newspaper he was reading. Not a single distracting thought breached his mind. Certainly, he was not distracted by his pondering at all, for he pondered on nothing. Furthermore, he definitely did not need to reread any sections of the newspaper due to inadequately absorbing the words.

Sighing to himself, he set the newspaper down and turned to nurse the drink set in front of him for the time being.

"Oi, Kirkland! You around?"

There was no reaction at hearing the sound of previously absent voice echo throughout his home. No, he had not sighed in relief, not even slightly; it had merely been a heavier breath than usual. Clearly, he was no less tense than he had been just a minute before. That voice did nothing but grate on his nerves. No reaction he had to it could possibly be positive.

When the man entered the room, his face remained solid with the small scowl that normally accompanied it (effortlessly, he might add). The man, on the other hand, was smiling at him.

"Miss me?"

"Of course not."

"Liar."

"You're an idiot, Beilschmidt."