He knew this man, somehow. He had to, anyway - that's what the other guy was saying. But he had zero recollection of how he knew this man, why he knew this man, how long he had known this man for, and why he was here was still an unanswered question.
His grip tightened when the instruction was to let go - gods didn't follow instructions very well, as one could probably have guessed - and it was only after a long, hard stare at the foreign face did his grip loosen again, loosen enough until he let go.
Why, he didn't know. He didn't know anyone who left messages on the answering machine beyond a name, a voice and a piece of information about him that he himself didn't know, but the thought occurred to him that this might be the only friend he had who wasn't Greek. Even among the Greeks he didn't have many friends.
He sat there, just breathing - breathing heavily, blinking slowly, watching the not-stranger-stranger.