[Perry Van Shrike, ladies and gentlemen. The only fucking person in the history of humanity who can go up and down a flight of stairs without making a single noise. Without missing a single step and scuffing a heel or, fuck, stumbling even a little in order to not give a guy a heart attack.

Then again, maybe that was part of the plan in the first place.

... Well fuck, suddenly a whole lot of things make perfect sense. Jesus, the guy was like a Sociopathic James Bond or some shit. Putting his ninja skills to use for the sole purpose of freaking out roommates and other acquaintances. He probably got off to it, just sat there in the bathroom all "ha ha ha, sure got that Harry today. Fuck I got him bad, nearly fell off the balcony screaming. Shiiiiiit."

Not.

That.

Harry thought about Perry getting off. Like, ever.]

I'm gonna pick it up. [He grumbles around his cigarette, pulling it out of his mouth and turning - definitely still trying not to die a little jittery from that fucking scare entrance of Perry's - to just watch the other man move towards the kitchen, practically blinking and finding himself following him. Like some sort of fucking puppy trailing after him, whining for scraps.]

People put things down for, like, five seconds. It's normal in places that aren't run like army ca- what are you doing?

[Easily distracted, Harry. But fuck it, if Perry's making food, that's probably the best thing he's heard all day. Harm didn't even give him lunch before slamming the door in his face.

Again.]