Will was so deep in his own head that when the knock sounded at the door, he flinched. (That had to be the reason for it. Be bloody daft to be jumping at shadows still.) Of course an instant later Alan sang out – like it was ever going to be anybody but one of the handful of friends who knew to find him here; he'd known that – and with a low sting of chagrin he set aside the brush and rose.
"Just a tick!" he called back. The place was little more than a glorified garage – he gathered that was exactly what it'd been originally, some kind of loading area that had since been sectioned off from the shop that fronted onto the street – and it took only a few strides to cross to the entrance, flick back the bolt and pull the door open. "C'mon in," he said, waving Alan through. "You can sit anywhere but the rocker."