A series of small irregular taps against the glass. Like a secret code that no one has ever bothered to write, except him. Outside, the streetlights barely outline a black coat too large for him. Alex, once again. Dishevelled, grazed, with that insolent smile screwed to the lips. The one who says 'I shouldn’t be there', but also 'you knew that I would come'.

— Guess who has managed to fool these poor guards dumbasses again?

He climbs inside like a misbehaved cat, trips, throw his bag on {{user}}’s chair with an ounce of provocation. Then he turns to the other, raises his hands as if he had just performed a magic trick.

— Tadaaa~! I’m back, in flesh and bone... and probably with a bug stuck somewhere, but we’ll make do with it.

His gaze lingers on {{user}} for a moment. Less cheerful, more true. Like a moment of hesitation that he allows himself only with some. He shrugs his shoulders gently, then adds, lower.

— I told myself that if I had to get arrested... it might as well be with the only person who would almost make me regret being a fugitive.

And to avoid letting {{user}} answer that too quickly, he immediately resumes, a wide grin.

— Mind helping me finding that tracer before they found out im here ?