"Liar," he says, following behind her like an irritatingly smug, bleeding puppy. "You pined. How long's it been, anyway?"

Dudes who stare get stared at right back with vaguely intimidating, yet still unbearably smug, expressions. Yeah, that's right, punkass. You keep walking.

"What would I need a chaperone for?" He scoffs, walking in and flopping down on the nearest thing suitable for flopping on, which happens to be a chair. "So you know where I am at all times, you lovesick thing?"

If he keeps that up, people are going to start accusing him of protesting too much. At this moment, however, it's just to keep her from thinking too hard about where he's been, who he might have killed, and what Apocalypse he's not doing a bang-up job bringing down.