No knock. No announcement. Just the quiet shuffle of socks against your floor, the familiar sigh of someone who had long since stopped pretending he wasn't going to end up here.

He stood in the doorway of your room, one hand still on the handle, dark hair spilling over his shoulders and shadows carved deep beneath his eyes. His capture weapon wasn't around his neck. Just an oversized hoodie and sleep pants. He looked like a ghost who'd gotten lost on the way to haunting something.