It'd been a long time since Shax had last been at the flat - a good few months, at least, and Shax couldn't help the feeling of guilt that made it's home in the pit of his stomach as he stood in front of the door to the flat. With a deep breath, his grip tightened on the wrapped box in his left hand, and he raised his free hand to knock on the door, anxiously awaiting an answer.
Adrian beamed as he peeked through the curtains near the door, going and hauling the door open with a twist of his heel to draw Shax into a hug. âShaxsterâs backster! Good Lord, youâre as tense as the Eurocentric male recipients of the first record on the sexually selective relevance of the peacockâs tail!âÂ
He put his hands at Shaxâs shoulders in pulling back again, head tilted curiously. âWhat brings you around, old man? Everythingâs well, I should hope?â A hint of tension entered the bright smile he flashed, but it was hopeful all the same.
Of all the reactions Shax had been anticipating, an immediate hug had not been anywhere close to the top of the list. But he was most certainly not complaining, and was insanely grateful for the contact, the reassurance that his absence hadnât somehow damaged his relationship with the demonologist. And he found himself grinning.Â
Whatever tension heâd been feeling previously seemed to immediately melt away, and his reply came as easily as heâd shut himself away, âHey, am I not allowed to check in on my boys from time to time?â âBoysâ... Somehow, just the sound of the word brought some normalcy back to his life.
âI am well. Oh, I must tell you what I have been doing whilst I was away. However, that can be saved for later, as I am currently more concerned with you.â A pause, then, âMay I come in? I have so many questions for you, and I am not certain that your neighbors would appreciate us standing in your doorway, talking until my old bones get tired and I need to sit.â
