He stops short, panting slightly, and startles at Alecto calling him by his first name. Once invited - so casually and automatically - he hadn't been able to make that switch back to calling him by his title, though Alecto had always kept him at armslength, calling him by his surname.

"I... I'm sorry, I - overslept," he says, lamely, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, running his paint-flecked fingers through his untidy hair and mussing it further, trying to suppress the urge to fidget under that smile - a real smile, not the pallid, polite expressions that usually made their home on Alecto's face. "Were you waiting long?"