Having showered and changed after his run, Darlington's in his kitchen looking for something to eat when he hears the knock. In a way, it surprises him. He hasn't gotten to know many people yet, though with school starting and his new job at the museum, that's bound to change before too long.

And the one person in Darrow he does know already, perhaps far too well? She wouldn't be stopping by.

Most likely, it's a neighbor, or a delivery person who's been somehow misdirected; huffing a sigh, he closes the cabinet he'd been picking through and goes to the door, undoing the lock. For a moment, he just stares at Alex, wrapped up as tightly in her hoodie as she'd been in that black henley the first day he'd ever met her. Now, as then, there's something flinty in her dark eyes. His jaw tenses a moment as he sees it--and as he swallows back the apology that tries to bubble its way to the surface.

"Alex."