[ What sort of fool does it make her that it's so lovely to be scolded like that? It's nostalgic in exactly the way that's plagued her for all her life, the ache of missing something that hasn't even happened yet for her to miss it. But now her head is swimming with memories and the timber and tone of his voice feels almost as familiar as her own. Even hearing him irritated with her feels like a gift.

So she makes her way up. She tries not to think too much about what she might or might not say when she's in there or how much trouble she might or might not get into because of it. All that really matters is that she wants to be there full stop.

She doesn't bother knocking when she reaches his door - he's buzzed her in and he's expecting her, so she just gives a quick courtesy rap of her knuckles before pushing the door open and stepping inside, her smile sheepish. ]

Heehee. Can you believe my luck that I didn't bring an umbrella? I'll probably drip everywhere, sorry...

[ With a clock, she shuts the door behind her. ]

Um... is it okay to ask how you're doing after all that?