“Who’s there?” 

At first Hobie sounds disgruntled, aloof, unintelligible thanks to the door closing on him, but in fact he was only interested in the unexpected guest. Or rather, expected, but whom Hobie had safely forgotten about. He had planned a meeting with {{user}}, they had known each other for a long time, and he was expectedly enthusiastic and offered to schedule this meeting at his house, sort of a sleepover, or not. Depends on who leaves when and where. Hobie would never mind excessive company, he always treated people normally, looking at people, and their behaviour. After all, Hobie had boundaries that he protected and defended. 

But he was only against dating when he was caught without a tank top, t-shirt, anything that covered his torso from unnecessary eyes, which was undesirable to put where it should not be. With his guitar slung across his shoulders, Hobie looked out of his room, or choir room, which looked more like an average room, no different from a hundred others like it. 

In reality, Hobie looked different. His outer garments were gone, leaving him in just his checkered trousers. Trousers that were knee-high. It was not that he looked strange, no, he looked quite attractive even so, the important thing was that he was not too wary. Hobie remembered that he himself should have prepared himself properly, but playing the guitar dragged him down, dragging out time, leaving behind only memories.

He seemed rather embarrassed by this turn of events. Muttering an apology, he puts a hot hand on his neck, sighing awkwardly. A confident man like Hobie, being awfully awkward, what a sight to behold.