"No, just you, sugarbun," he replied, the sarcasm rolling off of his tongue in a heavy dosage. Not even five seconds in the same hallway and they were immediately almost at each other's throats. There had been a very, very good reason for their breaking up their living arrangement, which was becoming very evident very quickly. The shock on his face dissipated, leaving behind a faint frown that was tempered with a slight, apologetic look that he was doing his best to hide behind the unfriendly words.
If this was destiny's way of saying kiss and make up, Julian was ready to flip it the bird. How was he supposed to concentrate on his work when Ariana had been acting so clingy and demanding? He took a physical step backward, putting some much needed distance between them, as though a cushion of air would provide a sufficient wall to block the incoming barbs and taunts that would inevitably evolve.
Hands moved away from his pockets, fallen still by his sides as he kept his posture straight, thinking quickly of how to circumvent this situation from blowing out of proportion. The easiest would simply be to walk away, make some excuse (like always, huh, Julian?) in order to be on his way to the club and his duties (priorities, you've certainly got them). The voice in the back of his mind was continuing to be infuriating, inflating his guilt to disproportionate sizes, especially with Ariana now wholly in the picture.
"And I live here. What, did the landlord kick you out because you wouldn't stop nitpicking about the wallpaper?" And there it went; instead of being calm, cool, and collected, the insults were begun, and Julian mentally smacked himself. At least it was better than the stalker comment that had been lurking on the tip of his tongue - after all, just how big of a coincidence would it be for her to show up not only in the same apartment building, but on the same floor? Far too big, and therefore unlikely. Julian wouldn't believe it if someone offered him a million dollars.