“Adrian?” The figure sprawled out on the floor stiffens, and then turns to face me, looking just as surprised to see me as I am him. “What are you doing here?” His eyes narrow, as if I’m the one intruding on him. And judging by the way he’s propped against the shelf, a book spread open in his lap, he’s clearly been here awhile – so I guess I am the one intruding.
I had a feeling he'd be here, but it's interesting to see that it seems to be divorced from her.
