[ a non-committal hum. kaveh's hands carve through his hair. he pulls out a few more clips; the red, wooden bits collect in his lap as he systematically unravels and winds his hair into something that clears the tugging discomfort gathering along his scalp. this building on the third floor - there's no need for a room number. kaveh has the unfortunate sense that the moment he steps into that hallway, he's going to know without a shadow of a doubt which room alhaitham has claimed for his own. there's a discomfort in his certainty. kaveh lets it rest.
no subject
instead, after a moment: ]
I don't have a debt here, Alhaitham.