[ Rather than text back, he just opens the door from the bathroom into Stack's room and stands there, looking at him. He's in a loose, vintage floral silk shirt worn over a tight black turtleneck, tucked into high waisted trousers; apparently recovered from his difficult week, plainly not planning on spending the night in his room.
His hands slide into his pockets, his eyebrows lifting. ]
no subject
His hands slide into his pockets, his eyebrows lifting. ]
Do you often sleep so late, fledgling?