Professionals Have Standards.

“Didn’t realize you blokes were havin’ a party without me.”

"ah! Sniper!"

Thorton struggles into a sitting position, leaning back against the bookshelves.

"ough... ow, what the fuck..."

The spies seem relatively uninjured. not even any of the broken glass on the floor has managed to injure them.

Looking back at Warren, Thorton doesn't even need to read his mind to know what he's thinking.

“Just glad you’re unharmed, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

Once Thorton is standing, he grabs a broom and starts sweeping up the shattered glass, looking over the scene now that he’s a little bit more focused.

His tone gets less 'know- it- all' and more hopeless. "i would say we leave it all behind... but there's no way we could ever run out of this... we're- we're in too deep..."

the end would have been different if he had elected to be snarky. something something 'isnt that how this whole rivalry bullshit started'.

thorton realizes there's a need to address this.

"... fuck..."

thorton feels himself rapidly losing ability to properly express his thoughts.

He cautiously placed a hand on Thorton’s shoulder, eyes widening a little.

“Hey, I mean, it ain’t too bad right? We can still be friends somehow… I guess.”

His smile fades into a grimace, but he swiftly puts it back up.

“And hey, I’m bettin’ that with the way things are goin’, we’ll outlive that old hag anyhow; one way or another.”

maybe.

there was a clear inhibition even in the thoughts. Thorton had gotten much better at this, and was very intentionally preventing himself from reading Warren's thoughts.

i think... she's at the end of her rope... so maybe we can be friends, or at least start to be...

thorton is on the verge of tears.

i dont want to keep going with all this bullshit that doesn't matter- the job, the rivalry- i dont want things to keep not mattering and getting broken. maybe things will keep getting broken, maybe everything will break, maybe it just has to. maybe, the world is a maze that holds the... that holds the... that holds the common person in endless shadow despite stars eclipsing each other and multiplying their light, and maybe... and maybe, despite everything, none of us will go down in history, not for lack of desire but because our brand of history is... is- is without a northern star... it has the rest of the damn sky, but that's the only guiding star that's known to everybody. whether that's the case or not, i just...

thorton looks up at Warren, his breath hitching

He doesn’t look or feel upset in the slightest, only shocked by the abrupt flood of emotions that came his way.

“Well, I do, and I’m not forgetting that any time soon.”

Sniper has always been frozen in his resolve, stuck deepest in the ice where he has a vice grip on his ideals; and having met these people, he refuses to let go that easily.

“And… History. I tend to let go o’ mine, at least the early parts of it. Sometimes ya don’t want to hang on, at least I don’t,” he explains, “But that doesn’t mean they don’t stick around in one form or another. And even if I bite the dust early, I don’t doubt I’ve made an impact on somebody.”

He shrugs, rubbing his arm.

thorton falls into Warren's arms, sobbing quietly.

Now he’s truly in shock. He’s not sure if he did something wrong, or if had missed something big and important, or if Thorton was just out of it, or if he really was being genuine, but whatever it might be, he did his best to shift his position to help keep Thorton on balance.

“Look mate, I have… So many things I oughta apologize to you for. If anything, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me, y’know?” He cracks a sad grin.

“I’ve been a twat to all of ya for years, but if ya suddenly wanna put it aside, I’m not gonna try and stop ya.”

Sniper lets out a quiet, hoarse laugh.

“But lets be honest, stupid shites gonna happen, but we’ll work through it instead of gettin’ all caught up about it, alright?”

He keeps himself steady as a post to lean on, gently patting Thorton on the back.

“Look, I understand. I know you’re bein’ genuine, you don’t have to look me in the eyes to make that clear, y’know?”

“And I don’t fault ya for any of this.”

He lets out a quiet exhale, not quite a sigh and more of a way of keeping his focus. That, and he was forgetting to breathe, but that wasn’t important right now.

“I reckon’ we’re gonna have to fight tomorrow, so let’s keep our heads high and wits about us, alright?”

He looks down at Thorton, smiling wider.

“Didn’t realize you blokes were havin’ a party without me.”

"ah! Sniper!"

Thorton struggles into a sitting position, leaning back against the bookshelves.

"ough... ow, what the fuck..."

The spies seem relatively uninjured. not even any of the broken glass on the floor has managed to injure them.

Looking back at Warren, Thorton doesn't even need to read his mind to know what he's thinking.

“Just glad you’re unharmed, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

Once Thorton is standing, he grabs a broom and starts sweeping up the shattered glass, looking over the scene now that he’s a little bit more focused.

His tone gets less 'know- it- all' and more hopeless. "i would say we leave it all behind... but there's no way we could ever run out of this... we're- we're in too deep..."

the end would have been different if he had elected to be snarky. something something 'isnt that how this whole rivalry bullshit started'.

thorton realizes there's a need to address this.

"... fuck..."

thorton feels himself rapidly losing ability to properly express his thoughts.

He cautiously placed a hand on Thorton’s shoulder, eyes widening a little.

“Hey, I mean, it ain’t too bad right? We can still be friends somehow… I guess.”

His smile fades into a grimace, but he swiftly puts it back up.

“And hey, I’m bettin’ that with the way things are goin’, we’ll outlive that old hag anyhow; one way or another.”

maybe.

there was a clear inhibition even in the thoughts. Thorton had gotten much better at this, and was very intentionally preventing himself from reading Warren's thoughts.

i think... she's at the end of her rope... so maybe we can be friends, or at least start to be...

thorton is on the verge of tears.

i dont want to keep going with all this bullshit that doesn't matter- the job, the rivalry- i dont want things to keep not mattering and getting broken. maybe things will keep getting broken, maybe everything will break, maybe it just has to. maybe, the world is a maze that holds the... that holds the... that holds the common person in endless shadow despite stars eclipsing each other and multiplying their light, and maybe... and maybe, despite everything, none of us will go down in history, not for lack of desire but because our brand of history is... is- is without a northern star... it has the rest of the damn sky, but that's the only guiding star that's known to everybody. whether that's the case or not, i just...

thorton looks up at Warren, his breath hitching

He doesn’t look or feel upset in the slightest, only shocked by the abrupt flood of emotions that came his way.

“Well, I do, and I’m not forgetting that any time soon.”

Sniper has always been frozen in his resolve, stuck deepest in the ice where he has a vice grip on his ideals; and having met these people, he refuses to let go that easily.

“And… History. I tend to let go o’ mine, at least the early parts of it. Sometimes ya don’t want to hang on, at least I don’t,” he explains, “But that doesn’t mean they don’t stick around in one form or another. And even if I bite the dust early, I don’t doubt I’ve made an impact on somebody.”

He shrugs, rubbing his arm.

thorton falls into Warren's arms, sobbing quietly.

Now he’s truly in shock. He’s not sure if he did something wrong, or if had missed something big and important, or if Thorton was just out of it, or if he really was being genuine, but whatever it might be, he did his best to shift his position to help keep Thorton on balance.

“Look mate, I have… So many things I oughta apologize to you for. If anything, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me, y’know?” He cracks a sad grin.

“I’ve been a twat to all of ya for years, but if ya suddenly wanna put it aside, I’m not gonna try and stop ya.”

Sniper lets out a quiet, hoarse laugh.

“But lets be honest, stupid shites gonna happen, but we’ll work through it instead of gettin’ all caught up about it, alright?”

“Didn’t realize you blokes were havin’ a party without me.”

"ah! Sniper!"

Thorton struggles into a sitting position, leaning back against the bookshelves.

"ough... ow, what the fuck..."

The spies seem relatively uninjured. not even any of the broken glass on the floor has managed to injure them.

Looking back at Warren, Thorton doesn't even need to read his mind to know what he's thinking.

“Just glad you’re unharmed, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

Once Thorton is standing, he grabs a broom and starts sweeping up the shattered glass, looking over the scene now that he’s a little bit more focused.

His tone gets less 'know- it- all' and more hopeless. "i would say we leave it all behind... but there's no way we could ever run out of this... we're- we're in too deep..."

the end would have been different if he had elected to be snarky. something something 'isnt that how this whole rivalry bullshit started'.

thorton realizes there's a need to address this.

"... fuck..."

thorton feels himself rapidly losing ability to properly express his thoughts.

He cautiously placed a hand on Thorton’s shoulder, eyes widening a little.

“Hey, I mean, it ain’t too bad right? We can still be friends somehow… I guess.”

His smile fades into a grimace, but he swiftly puts it back up.

“And hey, I’m bettin’ that with the way things are goin’, we’ll outlive that old hag anyhow; one way or another.”

maybe.

there was a clear inhibition even in the thoughts. Thorton had gotten much better at this, and was very intentionally preventing himself from reading Warren's thoughts.

i think... she's at the end of her rope... so maybe we can be friends, or at least start to be...

thorton is on the verge of tears.

i dont want to keep going with all this bullshit that doesn't matter- the job, the rivalry- i dont want things to keep not mattering and getting broken. maybe things will keep getting broken, maybe everything will break, maybe it just has to. maybe, the world is a maze that holds the... that holds the... that holds the common person in endless shadow despite stars eclipsing each other and multiplying their light, and maybe... and maybe, despite everything, none of us will go down in history, not for lack of desire but because our brand of history is... is- is without a northern star... it has the rest of the damn sky, but that's the only guiding star that's known to everybody. whether that's the case or not, i just...

thorton looks up at Warren, his breath hitching

He doesn’t look or feel upset in the slightest, only shocked by the abrupt flood of emotions that came his way.

“Well, I do, and I’m not forgetting that any time soon.”

Sniper has always been frozen in his resolve, stuck deepest in the ice where he has a vice grip on his ideals; and having met these people, he refuses to let go that easily.

“And… History. I tend to let go o’ mine, at least the early parts of it. Sometimes ya don’t want to hang on, at least I don’t,” he explains, “But that doesn’t mean they don’t stick around in one form or another. And even if I bite the dust early, I don’t doubt I’ve made an impact on somebody.”

He shrugs, rubbing his arm.

“Didn’t realize you blokes were havin’ a party without me.”

"ah! Sniper!"

Thorton struggles into a sitting position, leaning back against the bookshelves.

"ough... ow, what the fuck..."

The spies seem relatively uninjured. not even any of the broken glass on the floor has managed to injure them.

Looking back at Warren, Thorton doesn't even need to read his mind to know what he's thinking.

“Just glad you’re unharmed, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

Once Thorton is standing, he grabs a broom and starts sweeping up the shattered glass, looking over the scene now that he’s a little bit more focused.

His tone gets less 'know- it- all' and more hopeless. "i would say we leave it all behind... but there's no way we could ever run out of this... we're- we're in too deep..."

the end would have been different if he had elected to be snarky. something something 'isnt that how this whole rivalry bullshit started'.

thorton realizes there's a need to address this.

"... fuck..."

thorton feels himself rapidly losing ability to properly express his thoughts.

He cautiously placed a hand on Thorton’s shoulder, eyes widening a little.

“Hey, I mean, it ain’t too bad right? We can still be friends somehow… I guess.”

His smile fades into a grimace, but he swiftly puts it back up.

“And hey, I’m bettin’ that with the way things are goin’, we’ll outlive that old hag anyhow; one way or another.”

“Didn’t realize you blokes were havin’ a party without me.”

"ah! Sniper!"

Thorton struggles into a sitting position, leaning back against the bookshelves.

"ough... ow, what the fuck..."

The spies seem relatively uninjured. not even any of the broken glass on the floor has managed to injure them.

Looking back at Warren, Thorton doesn't even need to read his mind to know what he's thinking.

“Just glad you’re unharmed, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

Once Thorton is standing, he grabs a broom and starts sweeping up the shattered glass, looking over the scene now that he’s a little bit more focused.

“Didn’t realize you blokes were havin’ a party without me.”

[ He’s still here? He’s back—voice still familiarly gruff; but much softer than usual. ]

Nah, one second, I’ll be right there.

(He gets up unsteadily and makes his way to the door and opens it, finally processing who it is.)

Just say I look like pure shite next time, why don’t ya. ‘Sides I’m sure I’ve seen you worse off.

(He looks off to the side though, embarrassed and self conscious. He didn’t exactly realize how bad he looked before he got here, but honestly he hadn’t cared until face to face with.. him.)

He shrugs and gives him a light punch on the shoulder, then follows along.

As they make their way to the kitchen and open the fridge they hesitate at the sight of the beers in the door. They weigh their options for a moment before grabbing one and popping the cap off with their teeth, taking a sip. They start sifting through Tupperwares of leftovers for something to eat. Their tail swishes idly behind them.)

He realizes how that might sound, and sighs.

“You’re probably dehydrated as all hell. Best at least get some water in your system alongside that. I’ve got some bottles in my van if your base is out.”

Sniper finds himself reaching into his pocket for his old pack of cigarettes, only to find empty space where his fingers used to curl around them. A brief moment of panic flashes through his system, before he’s brought back to the present.

Of course he wasn’t carrying a pack on him, he had been clean for years.

Damnit.

Sniper chooses not to continue prodding at them then, it’s not his place. He places down a small tote bag. Inside is a carefully decorated pouch concealing a smaller object, and a much larger item facing downwards with a small sheet over it to hide what it actually is.

“Figured I owed ya more than an apology. Think of this as a bit of a peace offering, if ya will.”

“Off of the battlegrounds,” he proceeds to mumble.

Sniper reflects on the status of both teams as of right now. The Administrator had clearly taken notice of their predicament, seeing as they had a few new hires coming in. Not only would the battles begin again, but she would probably be keeping a much closer eye on the folks on both bases if she wasn’t already doing so.

Oh! Oh-uh thank you.

The larger object turns out to be a custom made stuffed penguin. It has an almost denim feel to it, but soft pieces and a light bow tie. There’s a sunflower eyepatch where one of its eyes would be, and the other is a large black bead. It’s the perfect size for somebody like Demo. Big enough to wrap his arms around it, but small enough to easily carry. It’s clearly made with a lot of love and care, as it’s incredibly sturdy and soft.

[ Image ID: A drawing of the same description listed above, depicting the stuffed penguin that Sniper is gifting to Demo. ]

As for the pouch, it’s very light and the fabric is ever so slightly see-through. It’s not enough to show what’s in side, but enough to see the shape of something neatly folded inside.

Opening and unfolding it, it turns out to be an eyepatch similar in appearance to that of the stuffed animal’s. The pattern is a lot more carefully stitched into the fabric, flowing neatly into the large sunflower sewn into the middle. It looks like it would be beautiful on Demo, being tailored specifically for him.

I- This is so… It’s…

And then Sniper proceeds to fully melt into the hug. He’s clearly not sure how to react, or how to entirely return the gesture because it’s an actual hug from someone taller than him— wait, since when was Demo taller than him?!

Sniper’s mind is still racing. Demo is crying, but he’s also happy; Sniper is relieved to know that much.

There’s a small ticking sensation in the back of his head, moving towards his eyes that threatens tears. But this is Demo’s moment. Not his.

They’re perfect. Thank you.

(At that, his food is done heating up, and he turns around to get it. A smile stays on his face as he starts to eat.)

Even once he does feel able to say something, part of him feels as if he’ll ruin this if he does. His smile falters slightly, and now it’s more of just a faded side-grin. Eventually, it disappears entirely.

“I should probably go.”

He makes a terrible attempt at another smile, glancing towards the door.

“Um, thanks for all of this by the way—”

[ He’s still here? He’s back—voice still familiarly gruff; but much softer than usual. ]

Nah, one second, I’ll be right there.

(He gets up unsteadily and makes his way to the door and opens it, finally processing who it is.)

Just say I look like pure shite next time, why don’t ya. ‘Sides I’m sure I’ve seen you worse off.

(He looks off to the side though, embarrassed and self conscious. He didn’t exactly realize how bad he looked before he got here, but honestly he hadn’t cared until face to face with.. him.)

He shrugs and gives him a light punch on the shoulder, then follows along.

As they make their way to the kitchen and open the fridge they hesitate at the sight of the beers in the door. They weigh their options for a moment before grabbing one and popping the cap off with their teeth, taking a sip. They start sifting through Tupperwares of leftovers for something to eat. Their tail swishes idly behind them.)

He realizes how that might sound, and sighs.

“You’re probably dehydrated as all hell. Best at least get some water in your system alongside that. I’ve got some bottles in my van if your base is out.”

Sniper finds himself reaching into his pocket for his old pack of cigarettes, only to find empty space where his fingers used to curl around them. A brief moment of panic flashes through his system, before he’s brought back to the present.

Of course he wasn’t carrying a pack on him, he had been clean for years.

Damnit.

Sniper chooses not to continue prodding at them then, it’s not his place. He places down a small tote bag. Inside is a carefully decorated pouch concealing a smaller object, and a much larger item facing downwards with a small sheet over it to hide what it actually is.

“Figured I owed ya more than an apology. Think of this as a bit of a peace offering, if ya will.”

“Off of the battlegrounds,” he proceeds to mumble.

Sniper reflects on the status of both teams as of right now. The Administrator had clearly taken notice of their predicament, seeing as they had a few new hires coming in. Not only would the battles begin again, but she would probably be keeping a much closer eye on the folks on both bases if she wasn’t already doing so.

Oh! Oh-uh thank you.

The larger object turns out to be a custom made stuffed penguin. It has an almost denim feel to it, but soft pieces and a light bow tie. There’s a sunflower eyepatch where one of its eyes would be, and the other is a large black bead. It’s the perfect size for somebody like Demo. Big enough to wrap his arms around it, but small enough to easily carry. It’s clearly made with a lot of love and care, as it’s incredibly sturdy and soft.

[ Image ID: A drawing of the same description listed above, depicting the stuffed penguin that Sniper is gifting to Demo. ]

As for the pouch, it’s very light and the fabric is ever so slightly see-through. It’s not enough to show what’s in side, but enough to see the shape of something neatly folded inside.

Opening and unfolding it, it turns out to be an eyepatch similar in appearance to that of the stuffed animal’s. The pattern is a lot more carefully stitched into the fabric, flowing neatly into the large sunflower sewn into the middle. It looks like it would be beautiful on Demo, being tailored specifically for him.

I- This is so… It’s…

And then Sniper proceeds to fully melt into the hug. He’s clearly not sure how to react, or how to entirely return the gesture because it’s an actual hug from someone taller than him— wait, since when was Demo taller than him?!

Sniper’s mind is still racing. Demo is crying, but he’s also happy; Sniper is relieved to know that much.

There’s a small ticking sensation in the back of his head, moving towards his eyes that threatens tears. But this is Demo’s moment. Not his.

[ He’s still here? He’s back—voice still familiarly gruff; but much softer than usual. ]

Nah, one second, I’ll be right there.

(He gets up unsteadily and makes his way to the door and opens it, finally processing who it is.)

Just say I look like pure shite next time, why don’t ya. ‘Sides I’m sure I’ve seen you worse off.

(He looks off to the side though, embarrassed and self conscious. He didn’t exactly realize how bad he looked before he got here, but honestly he hadn’t cared until face to face with.. him.)

He shrugs and gives him a light punch on the shoulder, then follows along.

As they make their way to the kitchen and open the fridge they hesitate at the sight of the beers in the door. They weigh their options for a moment before grabbing one and popping the cap off with their teeth, taking a sip. They start sifting through Tupperwares of leftovers for something to eat. Their tail swishes idly behind them.)

He realizes how that might sound, and sighs.

“You’re probably dehydrated as all hell. Best at least get some water in your system alongside that. I’ve got some bottles in my van if your base is out.”

Sniper finds himself reaching into his pocket for his old pack of cigarettes, only to find empty space where his fingers used to curl around them. A brief moment of panic flashes through his system, before he’s brought back to the present.

Of course he wasn’t carrying a pack on him, he had been clean for years.

Damnit.

Sniper chooses not to continue prodding at them then, it’s not his place. He places down a small tote bag. Inside is a carefully decorated pouch concealing a smaller object, and a much larger item facing downwards with a small sheet over it to hide what it actually is.

“Figured I owed ya more than an apology. Think of this as a bit of a peace offering, if ya will.”

“Off of the battlegrounds,” he proceeds to mumble.

Sniper reflects on the status of both teams as of right now. The Administrator had clearly taken notice of their predicament, seeing as they had a few new hires coming in. Not only would the battles begin again, but she would probably be keeping a much closer eye on the folks on both bases if she wasn’t already doing so.

Oh! Oh-uh thank you.

The larger object turns out to be a custom made stuffed penguin. It has an almost denim feel to it, but soft pieces and a light bow tie. There’s a sunflower eyepatch where one of its eyes would be, and the other is a large black bead. It’s the perfect size for somebody like Demo. Big enough to wrap his arms around it, but small enough to easily carry. It’s clearly made with a lot of love and care, as it’s incredibly sturdy and soft.

[ Image ID: A drawing of the same description listed above, depicting the stuffed penguin that Sniper is gifting to Demo. ]

As for the pouch, it’s very light and the fabric is ever so slightly see-through. It’s not enough to show what’s in side, but enough to see the shape of something neatly folded inside.

Opening and unfolding it, it turns out to be an eyepatch similar in appearance to that of the stuffed animal’s. The pattern is a lot more carefully stitched into the fabric, flowing neatly into the large sunflower sewn into the middle. It looks like it would be beautiful on Demo, being tailored specifically for him.

[ He’s still here? He’s back—voice still familiarly gruff; but much softer than usual. ]

Nah, one second, I’ll be right there.

(He gets up unsteadily and makes his way to the door and opens it, finally processing who it is.)

Just say I look like pure shite next time, why don’t ya. ‘Sides I’m sure I’ve seen you worse off.

(He looks off to the side though, embarrassed and self conscious. He didn’t exactly realize how bad he looked before he got here, but honestly he hadn’t cared until face to face with.. him.)

He shrugs and gives him a light punch on the shoulder, then follows along.

As they make their way to the kitchen and open the fridge they hesitate at the sight of the beers in the door. They weigh their options for a moment before grabbing one and popping the cap off with their teeth, taking a sip. They start sifting through Tupperwares of leftovers for something to eat. Their tail swishes idly behind them.)

He realizes how that might sound, and sighs.

“You’re probably dehydrated as all hell. Best at least get some water in your system alongside that. I’ve got some bottles in my van if your base is out.”

Sniper finds himself reaching into his pocket for his old pack of cigarettes, only to find empty space where his fingers used to curl around them. A brief moment of panic flashes through his system, before he’s brought back to the present.

Of course he wasn’t carrying a pack on him, he had been clean for years.

Damnit.

Sniper chooses not to continue prodding at them then, it’s not his place. He places down a small tote bag. Inside is a carefully decorated pouch concealing a smaller object, and a much larger item facing downwards with a small sheet over it to hide what it actually is.

“Figured I owed ya more than an apology. Think of this as a bit of a peace offering, if ya will.”

“Off of the battlegrounds,” he proceeds to mumble.

Sniper reflects on the status of both teams as of right now. The Administrator had clearly taken notice of their predicament, seeing as they had a few new hires coming in. Not only would the battles begin again, but she would probably be keeping a much closer eye on the folks on both bases if she wasn’t already doing so.

[ He’s still here? He’s back—voice still familiarly gruff; but much softer than usual. ]

Nah, one second, I’ll be right there.

(He gets up unsteadily and makes his way to the door and opens it, finally processing who it is.)

Just say I look like pure shite next time, why don’t ya. ‘Sides I’m sure I’ve seen you worse off.

(He looks off to the side though, embarrassed and self conscious. He didn’t exactly realize how bad he looked before he got here, but honestly he hadn’t cared until face to face with.. him.)

He shrugs and gives him a light punch on the shoulder, then follows along.

As they make their way to the kitchen and open the fridge they hesitate at the sight of the beers in the door. They weigh their options for a moment before grabbing one and popping the cap off with their teeth, taking a sip. They start sifting through Tupperwares of leftovers for something to eat. Their tail swishes idly behind them.)

He realizes how that might sound, and sighs.

“You’re probably dehydrated as all hell. Best at least get some water in your system alongside that. I’ve got some bottles in my van if your base is out.”

Sniper finds himself reaching into his pocket for his old pack of cigarettes, only to find empty space where his fingers used to curl around them. A brief moment of panic flashes through his system, before he’s brought back to the present.

Of course he wasn’t carrying a pack on him, he had been clean for years.

Damnit.

[ He’s still here? He’s back—voice still familiarly gruff; but much softer than usual. ]

Nah, one second, I’ll be right there.

(He gets up unsteadily and makes his way to the door and opens it, finally processing who it is.)

Just say I look like pure shite next time, why don’t ya. ‘Sides I’m sure I’ve seen you worse off.

(He looks off to the side though, embarrassed and self conscious. He didn’t exactly realize how bad he looked before he got here, but honestly he hadn’t cared until face to face with.. him.)

He shrugs and gives him a light punch on the shoulder, then follows along.

[ He’s still here? He’s back—voice still familiarly gruff; but much softer than usual. ]

Nah, one second, I’ll be right there.

(He gets up unsteadily and makes his way to the door and opens it, finally processing who it is.)