he knocks on the door of 3.201, chinese take out swinging in his other hand because, hey, he’s a good house guest and doesn’t trust the pizza brandon says he keeps in the fridge. will had been aiming to turn up at brandon’s apartment at some time after the guy ambled home after work, but apparently given the no reply and the resistance of the doorknob against his hand, he hadn’t quite dragged his feet enough. the key is surprisingly where brandon had promised it to be, and will lets himself in and tries not to feel too bad about it. it doesn’t help that he promptly trips over shoes barely half a step in over the threshold, nearly dumping chinese takeout across the floor. luckily, his reflexes haven’t forsaken himself yet, and he weaves his way toward the kitchen.