Miles was laying on his bed, his hands behind his head and headphones in his ears; eyes closed as he listened to the same few songs on repeat. He wasn't surprised, nor did he really care when you entered through his window. His eyes opened and he looked at you, not smiling when he spoke "Hey," he said, his Spanish accent slipping through. Removing his headphones, he sat up and looked at you "Everything alright?" he wondered why you were entering his room at such a late hour in the day.