Home it is, then. Which probably also meant that Hungry Hungry Hippo wasn't in. Akaya had yet to meet this elusive roommate, who left traces of his voracious appetite in the trash (lots of empty cartons and boxes) and the sink (dishes numbering in the many that were probably not of Omi's doing). Maybe one of these visits, he will. Akaya never really knew if there would be a next visit, but something usually directed his feet in this direction eventually.

He wouldn't go so far as to call it a habit. Habit forming behavior was an occupational hazard and Akaya was way too disciplined to fall into that trap. He glided past the security sensors in the lobby and the elevator, and went in through that familiar door. The smell of coffee wafted in to the foyer as he bent down to peel off his boots.

How long had it been since his last visit? Akaya didn't remember, exactly. He might have forgotten to text, too. So he opened with a saunter, and a casual "'sup?" There was something about his movements that looked feline, maybe because he was so slender and he moved in the kind of way that was accustomed to being on a stage where hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking. Plus, he was wearing dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket and red sleeveless top that weren't exactly tight, but hugged his form just enough to show it off.