That presence grew stronger as she stood in the doorway. A familiarity that he had been missing for a little too long this time. She'd left him lingering, but he knew Thetis would come in her own time, he had only expected her sooner than this. Much had happened and was still dwelling inside of him, a constant battle that Achilles would always fight to the end. His handling of Neoptolemus, Briseis and her mortal, and even Patroclus had touched briefly into what the raging warrior was capable of. The coma had brought him peace but with a limit, and now pieces were starting to shake back into place, crooked and forced in, causing tension.
Before he looked up, his jaw clenched expecting to say something tense to the person that stood so casually in his doorway, until he met her eyes and softened. She stepped forward, and he watched her carefully, a wave of emotion hitting him, but he did not speak just yet.
Setting his paperwork aside, he sat like a statue before speaking. Had she waited too long?
"You're late," he said, not able to hide the tinge of upset that broke out in his voice. Or the sting that threatened his eyes. Achilles could never hide anything from Thetis, and he never would.