He doesn't linger in the open doorway once he's spotted exactly where he'd been directed earlier, easily picking up the slim silhouette of a familiar creature backlit by midday light. There was a time when he'd avoid the numerous rays cutting pale lines through the air between them, but— well, that's not his problem to fuss over anymore.

The relief he feels with every step spent passing through them doesn't remove the faint, petulant quality to an otherwise tamer tone.

"It had better be good wine."