Aidan should have been aware of her before the knock. He should have smelled her, heard her heart beating. But he was laying on his bed, trying to drown out the thoughts running through his mind and trying to block out the sounds of the world. Not that there were many. His apartment was high enough up to not let the traffic filter in. He just didn't want to hear the birds, or the wind, or his neighbor puttering around. This meant that Aidan was too focused on misery - again, it was all he seemed to be able to do lately, be miserable - that the knock surprised him.
The face on the other side of the door surprised him, too.
He had a hard time looking Evey in the eye. And he was a little ashamed of his rumpled appearance. Bedhead. Jammie pants. No shirt. Aidan stepped back so that Evey could enter if she wanted to. He assumed she wanted to. He had a hard time believing that she'd show up and just stay on the other side of the door talking at him. Evey was a more private person than that. Both iterations.