oh whatever, wenchita bonita. don't even mess!
The surprise was evident on Dominic's face when the door opened. He hadn't been expecting anyone in particular given the safety of internet anonymity, but the figure before him was a shock, nonetheless. Added to this effect, it seemed the other wasn't feeling too hot at the moment--his skin faintly had the sheen of one that'd recently prayed to the porcelain goddess. Dominic nodded a couple of times at the resident's statement, which also served as a way to acknowledge the given apology (not that it was needed).
"Yeah, yeah. That's me. I'm the coffee filter guy. And you're--I'm sorry, I never asked you what your name is." He gave the man a sheepish smile, hoping the hour would excuse his lack of propriety. (The other individual was a young man, right? Dominic wasn't entirely certain, but the timber of the voice surely meant such a thing. Maybe. Possibly. Unconsciously, Dominic's eyebrows furrowed slightly.)
It was maybe forward on Dominic's part to inquire about their health, but regardless of this person's gender, he or she was clearly green around the gills. For better or for worse they were Dominic's neighbor, and neighbors were supposed to help one another in times of need. After all, this guy was nice enough to share his coffee filters and the two of them didn't even know one another. It couldn't hurt to show a little compassion in return.
"Hey, um. Are you all right? You don't look so good, man." Dominic frowned, feeling inklings of concern. He was tempted to say not to worry about the filters altogether, that he could make do with what smokes he had left as a way to make it through the night; it'd be painful, sure, but it was a partially feasible solution. This guy was probably better off resting than handing out favors at 1 A.M, anyway.