His first day at the Compound hadn't yielded too many interactions with the others already living there, but Miles wasn't upset by that. Eventually, he'd know everyone, perhaps too well. In time, they'd all know how to push each others' buttons, how to tread lightly when someone was in a foul mood, what their neighbors enjoyed eating for breakfast - all of those little details Miles had never bothered to learn about anyone. They would be together for a year, living side by side. It was the first time Miles had ever lived with anyone else since his university roommate.
As he sat in the mostly silent living room, his arms draped casually on either side of a leather armchair, Miles wondered how he'd fair there. Some had already left, and it wasn't in his nature to get along with people easily. The year might prove to be hard on him. While he wasn't outwardly rude most of the time, people somehow always ended up resenting him over time. In the past, Miles could have easily admitted - to himself, at least - it hurt. But he'd been living exposed to that reality for so long he couldn't say such circumstances still stung as much as they had in his younger years.
Idly, Miles glanced toward the clock on the wall; but before his eyes landed on its face he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. "Good evening," he said, voice gentle so he wouldn't startle the other man, who approached the fire looking pensive. Miles studied how the firelight played against his skin, always having found that visual effect curious and appealing.