[He doesn't bother responding to the first; they both know if it weren't one thing it would be another, that if nothing else - if nothing else - they live in too small of an enclosed space not to disrupt each others' sphere of privacy periodically. It has also not escaped his notice that when she does, she is more deliberate about it than most, more difficult to turn out for having a reason to be there.

His eyes flick to the light when it turns on, something he almost recognizes, something right there if he were to think about it which he doesn't, so that's where it stays. His gaze is there to meet hers when she turns, though.

It's strange. He doesn't move though he remains intent.]

Then you understand why I want nothing to do with anything anyone sent me because something made them do it. And why I'm not wild about being made to do the same.

[Closer, though still not right on it.]