[The message is read about four times before he can comprehend what's going on, as if the sender shouldn't have made the meaning a glaring thing. It's too early -- late? To wrestle with the dokis.
He will eventually rise up, make a quiet trek into the living room, gross moccasin slippers helping him in making a silent entry. He'll linger by the doorway, arms crossed. He's donning his most normal ensemble yet.]
So you made it...
[Playing it cool; he'll belatedly tuck his phone into a pocket, as if to erase his purpose here.]
no subject
He will eventually rise up, make a quiet trek into the living room, gross moccasin slippers helping him in making a silent entry. He'll linger by the doorway, arms crossed. He's donning his most normal ensemble yet.]
So you made it...
[Playing it cool; he'll belatedly tuck his phone into a pocket, as if to erase his purpose here.]