He simply stared at her. Stared. He couldn't quite help himself. She never changed, never gave up.

"I give you full marks for tenacity, Paris. I'd say don't let yourself be the fool, but," he stepped back and waved a hand to let her into his flat, "then who am I to dictate to you?"

It wasn't the please that had him letting her in, though he'd not dissaude her from that belief if she had it. It was nothing more than his own morbid curiousity and a slight touch of boredom that had him shutting the door once she'd entered into the tiny studio. He studied her for a long moment before he purposely brushed past her, his hand gripping her arm as he went around her, and grabbed a shirt hanging from the handle of his closet.

Tugging it on the blue cotton 't', he looked over at her again, unaware of the mess his hair was in. "An adult conversation then? Well, this will at least prove entertaining. Shall you start?"

He didn't even attempt to hide the mockery in his tone.