Pike was laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. That was most of what he did when he wasn't at work, the Ice Room, or on one of his occasional beach smoking trips. It probably said something about his mental state, but he wasn't a shrink and had no intention of talking to any of the ones they had here. He had no real intention of truly talking to anyone. He could have conversations, but no one would really get the story of what was going on inside his head. That wasn't really a good thing. Had he talked to someone, Heather might have known not to suggest that he was in any way, shape, or form a good guy. She might have known that he got irrationally angry at anyone that did that. Instead, he'd been angry and she'd been offended.
He hadn't apologized. He planned to, once he could stop feeling ashamed of himself for his reaction and figure out a believable cover story for why he got angry about it. Unfortunately, that hadn't happened yet. Instead, he'd been working and laying on his bed staring at the ceiling, interspersed with bouts of his more usual drinking.
It was the need for a drink that got him up out of bed. He had his own stash in his room, but he still needed to get a glass from downstairs. So he swung his legs off the bed, ran his hand through his long hair to tame it a little, and then headed down to get a nice tall glass he could pour full of liquid absolution. It was as he was hitting the bottom that he heard the knock. He debated ignoring it, but realized that they likely wouldn't go away and would instead knock louder. Unwilling to deal with the hassle of explaining why he ignored the door to his cabinmates, he groaned in exasperation and frustration and went to get the door.
If Heather was trying to draw attention to her body, it was a failure. Not for lack of trying, but Pike just wasn't really in a mindset that allowed him to recognize that sort of thing. Sure, he could recognize someone was attractive, and he did, but he hadn't really felt any huge amount of lust since hell. Or if he did, he buried it so deep that even he wasn't aware of it. It didn't help that he still felt a little awkward around Heather. So when he saw her standing there, instead of his eyes going where she wanted them to go, they stayed on her face, though he couldn't quite look her in the eyes. "Oh. Hey, Heather. What's up?"