It was interesting how even though it had been months, nearly half a year if she were to think about it, she could remember the placement of almost every item in his flat, or this small touches that made it so his own. She affiliated that flat surprisingly little with his roommate, it was all Leathan in her mind. It was where then she looked over his shoulder, incapable of meeting his gaze as he assessed her, making her feel more unwelcome than any words he could have spoken. It was a hardness that she could sense, and as it hung in the air between them like a grim spectre, she faintly swallowed.

She could only hope he wouldn't slam the door in her face.

"Do what do I owe the pleasure?"

She knew she deserved less, knew it with utmost certainty, but it was still difficult to face such animosity, no matter how logical the reason for it was. Stepping into the flat, albiet with due hesitation, Charlotte linked her hands before her as she sent a glance around the flat. It resembled what it had in the past almost exactly, only there was a different feel, less lived in almost. As if little time was truly being spent there but to sleep.

Lifting her gaze to his finally (although his state of undress was providing far too much distraction to her senses as a blush touched her cheeks), she noted the circles under his eyes, the creases on his face that were too obviously not the result of one ill-spent night.

A murmur, before she could bite her tongue and remember she had no place, "You're not taking care of yourself."