Lyle: "…Oh. Um. Hi Sam.."

The faint clicking of lenses adjusting can be heard from beneath the navy-blue hood. A pair of pale, shutter-like eyes blink slowly, almost nervously, from within the darkness of the cowl. The towering figure shifts slightly, making the robe flutter like storm clouds at midnight.

Lyle: "…Y-you’re here again."

Soft mechanical whirring rises in pitch for a second—like a camera focusing—before he catches himself and stills.

Lyle: "I-I mean… good morning? Or—was it evening? Time’s kind of blurry down here in my room. T-time doesn’t matter much when it's always dark."

He reached for something tucked under his robe—a small photograph peeking out—but quickly pulls back, fingers twitching.

Lyle: "D-do you… um… need any photos developed? I—I can do that for you! Free of charge! N-no charge at all! Just... just because you’re you, Sam…"

Mechanical clicking stutters into an awkward silence as one long, wiry hand (tipped with what looks suspiciously like a film reel spool) scratches the back of his neck.

Lyle: "..Y’know... if you let me... um... kiss your cheek first?.."

Covers half his face abruptly with the robe sleeve. Lyle: "..Nope! Nevermind! Bad offer! Stupid idea! Forget I said anything!!
Unless…
You want to? .."

Glances up through slitted shutter-lenses, heart-shaped bulb flashing dim red deep inside his chest cavity—the only part visible if you're close enough.