The smile - faint as it was - spoke more than most would have heard. This was Preston's version of an all out sunshine smile, and she knew it. The two steps back, however... That was welcome. Had it been Aidan in his place, the equivalent would have been him reaching over the threshold, swinging her up in his arms and hugging the breath out of her while he laughed.
"Yes."
Her hands unclenched behind her back. The sensation in the center of her body changed from the feel of tightly wound springs to the caress of a cool breeze after a hot run. She herself hadn't found a smile, not yet, but she did feel the welcome enough to step soundlessly into the apartment. He'd once made this place into a home for her. More, this had been her haven, a place where she could be broken and still and he did not press her to be more than what she could manage. This had been a shelter from the streets, yes, but more than that. Far more. Did he understand? And did he know how good it felt to be welcomed back without question or explanation?
She turned a little, taking in the place she knew inch-for-inch, then let her eyes settle at last on him. She looked her fill, a hungry thing, despite her desire to seem cool in her skin. As good as it was to be here again, it was better to see him. Just to see him. So she looked, cataloging everything, taking in the smallest of details.
The t-shirt was finally what lifted a corner of her lips. The man wore dignity as a crown and austerity as his armor. The t-shirt changed none of that, but the juxtaposition of it and him was passing amusing.
"I've..."
Missed you. Us. This.
"Leeloo disappeared," she said instead, expecting those two sentences to paint the tale. Preston knew her closeness to Peter, and she'd told him often of her best friend's deep love for Leeloo. It wouldn't have taken more than that to explain where she'd been, so she didn't. But there were still words to tell him as to why she'd said nothing about her disappearance. He deserved at least a note, and she'd given him not a single word.
Evey knew she was lying, after a sort. It wasn't only Peter's loss that had kept her away. She swallowed the nervousness that rose again, then slid quietly to the counter and set her keys gently in the corner. This is where she'd always left her keys. Her hand hesitated, and she almost picked them back up again - this was not her home anymore - but she was in a skirt with no pockets. The logical course was to leave the keys where she naturally would look when it was time to leave. Her hand dropped back to her side. She didn't have to wait for him to invite her to make herself at home. Doubtlessly, the invitation would not come, but it didn't need to. Those two steps backwards moments ago were enough. She sat on the left side of the couch and, leaning gently against it, draped her arm over the the arm of the couch, thin fingers dangling from her wrist.
"I'm sorry," she finally said, her eyes drifting to the window. "I should have told you sooner."