Before saying good-bye, she had already stood to click off her bedroom light; once it was dark, she turned her phone to the ground and used its light to navigate. She knew her home like the back of her hand, in dark and in blinding light, but there was something about living with a roommate that made her layout unpredictable. In the few minutes she had to wait for him to travel to her (compared to the half-hour it would be for her, probably), she quickly went into the bathroom and primped, although more of it was nervously smoothing out her hair than anything substantial. Back in her room, she sat at her desk in the familiar glow of the computer monitor and considered getting a bit more done on the security plan, but soon she heard a rustling sound and looked over her shoulder. It must have been the sound of his hands scraping against his pants as he leaned forward, because if she recalled correctly, he didn't make a sound teleporting.
She smiled. “Hey,” she greeted him softly, moving over to sit next to him at the bed and put a hand on his back, “I'm glad you came. Feeling alright, or do you want some water?” Maybe because it was because she made a habit of throwing herself at the ground and missing, so to speak, but she had gotten past the nausea he warned her nearly instantaneously – then again, he was the one doing all the work.