Slevin was having a terrible day today, and yet—due to his goddamned ataraxia—he seemed completely calm when he showed up at your door at 8pm.

“I lost my job, my apartment building is infested with termites, and when I let myself into Kelly’s apartment? Some downgrade had her in doggy, but she had that chocolate milk I like so I took it ‘n left.”

He informed you as if none of those events were a big deal, letting himself into your house and slipping out of his loafers.

Slevin hung up his coat like he owned the place, looking around silently. Despite his never-ending calmness, the man seemed.. disoriented.