（ by the time mccoy finds his door, he has been up and training for hours. his hair is damp, his small quarters filled with the billowing steam of an excruciatingly hot shower when he opens his door. his expression is intractable as it ever is, but the absence of tension to his shoulders speaks in and of itself. he steps back, letting the man inside. his space is as neat and bare as it ever is. tiny slivers of personality have snuck in over the course of the nearly two years he has been present here — the row of books on the shelves, the sword on the wall, the selection of fine teas. the pictures of he, wei wuxian and gwen.
he takes the tray from mccoy as he directs the man to remove his shoes, and sets the breakfast down on his desk. ）
What is the occasion?
（ it's asked as he takes down his teapot and cups, clearly preparing for mccoy to stay a while. ）
no subject
he takes the tray from mccoy as he directs the man to remove his shoes, and sets the breakfast down on his desk. ）
What is the occasion?
（ it's asked as he takes down his teapot and cups, clearly preparing for mccoy to stay a while. ）