[He'll find Birthday sitting on a couch, arms crossed behind his head as he blinks at Art for a second or two, taking in his usual suit and the lack of, well, everything that makes the Art of recent months, basically.]
Well, well, what do you know! If it isn't the Art we all know and love.
[He hops up, twisting so he's standing next to Art and promptly slinging an arm over his shoulders, his other hand casually stuffed into his pocket... where it may or may not be curled around his taser.]