[ Severus is glad for how alien it looks, when he finally arrives. Bars conjure memories of high-class affairs he could never get into on his own, taken along in turns gleefully and mournfully. During and post being the distinction. He doesn't want to think of familiarity, of people dead and dying. He doesn't want to think about Lucius, and lying to him over shots in the after-hours of a day very much post. He felt less bad about it after the first time Narcissa pressed the baby into his arms so she could shout at her house staff properly, but it still sits on his shoulder and speaks to him daily.
Black clad as usual, he sits without fanfare. His approach is quiet but not unnaturally stealth; even if he can't read his mind, Xavier is not deaf, so Severus feels no need to announce himself at the door. He doesn't say anything at all actually, just. Sits down. Hi. ]
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Black clad as usual, he sits without fanfare. His approach is quiet but not unnaturally stealth; even if he can't read his mind, Xavier is not deaf, so Severus feels no need to announce himself at the door. He doesn't say anything at all actually, just. Sits down. Hi. ]