Narcissus had spent months around Echo to abuse her kindness. He could never truly care about anyone. She could pine for him and he would still see her as a constant shadow to be stepped on. He wouldn't even admit to himself that he had found any comfort in her presence. When he called for her she came running without complain. She came because he asked. She was loyal to him. That gave the arrogant man power.
She arrived right on time, though he couldn't say he was entirely pleased. He looked her over, fingering the collar of her jacket. "What is this?" He seemed disgusted with her attire. It was plain. It was common. "It's not a good color on you," he said in a tiff letting her inside.