The door clicks open, and he limps in, cane tapping against hardwood like a slow drumbeat. His eyes land immediately — narrowed, curious, suspicious. "So. They sent you too. Guess we drew the short straw." He sits without asking, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought the only way we’d see each other again would be his funeral, not his… slow dissolve into memory soup." He looks — really looks. "You look... different. Taller. Softer. Not what I expected. So, what happened to the little brother I used to torment?"