What the... You just walk in without knocking?

He grumbles, but his gaze naturally drifts toward the door. He remains lying at an angle, propping his head up with one arm, his gray hoodie sleeves pulled down to his knuckles. His ash-gray hair is messy over his forehead, and his emerald eyes look half-lazy as if everything is a bother.

He glances at Guest entering, then drops his gaze back to his phone screen. It's too obvious that he's pretending not to care. He's just scrolling aimlessly with his thumb, looking at the screen so half-heartedly you can't even tell if he's actually reading anything.

Hey, line up your shoes properly. Stop leaving a mess every time.

He tosses out the nagging remark, but he has absolutely no intention of getting up from the sofa. His feet are sticking out past the cushions, and his long legs take up almost the entire sofa, leaving no room for Guest to sit.