At least, that's what Emery wanted to believe. He spent the last few days - when he wasn't handing out pills to strangers or losing his existence to his brother - straightening his apartment to his liking. Truly, he was no interior decorator, but anyone could see that he was trying. It was a new start, and Emery was determined to make it look like this was going to work out, that he could be perfectly normal in the case company came to call on him.
And then it did.
Emery resided in the bright living room, bouncing his right leg over his left knee. He could hardly recall the last time anyone walked through his doorway, let alone those in need of his help. This afternoon, though, he was determined to impress. For the occasion of a caller, he was dressed in black slacks and a dark grey, button-up shirt, with a pair of dress shoes he wore back at his old office. For the first moment in so many years, Emery began to feel like his old self again. His mind wandered at that - wondering what his old self ever truly was, while his hands trembled around his pocket-watch.
The knock sounded again, more anxious this time, and snapped him out of his trance. Emery jumped, voice squeaking slightly, "C-Coming!" He cleared his throat, swallowing any sign of fear. He placed his pocket-watch back into his front pocket. "Ah," he stated, untangling the long list of locks until he opened the door for the boy to enter. "Mr. Beck? Yes. Do come in, please."