She hadn't stayed around to read his return comment, so she hadn't known not to knock, and she didn't apologize for it. Instead, she closed her fingers in his sleeve and tugged him back into the apartment. It looked much like she expected it to - sparse except for the art supplies. She didn't know anything about her maybe-brother except for what was visible in this space. He was simple, quiet and an artist; she wanted to know more.
But not when he was dying of fever.
She touched a hand to his forehead as she tugged him. "What are you doing out of bed?" she asked, grinning at how annoying that question must be after he'd told her the door was unlocked.