[ That earns a blink, a raised eyebrow, and a tilt of the head; one of those pointy canine ears flops from the movement, in a way that some might even call the slightest bit cute. And maybe tellingly -- about Gen's general exhaustion, but also about the fact that he feels less of a need to put on his usual tough front -- his voice is a little lower, with less of its usual harsh edge, when he mutters, ]

I'd be fine with just your couch ...

[ But still, he does listlessly trail after her, which is answer enough on its own.

His gait is wobbly and uneven, a far cry from his usual, self-assured, quick-footed pace, and he keeps a hand trailing against the nearest wall even as he follows a few steps behind her. Evidence of just how tired he is, which he doesn't even bother trying to hide. ]

You're looking like shit, aren't you. [ Pot, kettle, black. ] You didn't even get lose your home. Figured you'd be doing better.

[ He says all this, but it's really just bullshit. Words just to fill the silence, provocative for the sake of being provocative. ]