He hears the footsteps approach, but they're hardly the first, and he's had enough of his drink to be relaxed. He's paging through some of his drawings, ones from the first few weeks here, and it's not til Aerith speaks that he realizes who it is.

"You always get what you want, love," he beams, the endearment still new enough to make happy heat prickle in his cheeks. That and how mischievous she is peering around the doorway. "You'll have to fight me for it, though."