[When Pietro enters his room late in the afternoon, it's with an almost palpable air of irritation. He stops just inside the doorway for all of half a second, glancing over at the new occupant who wasn't there this morning. He raises an eyebrow as he takes in Bobo's appearance, clearly making some kind of judgment, either about the man himself or simply the fact that he's here at all. Pietro rolls his eyes and sighs, ignoring the guy for a moment, setting two boxes on the small table, one cardboard that looks stained and falling apart, and the other a rectangular take-out container with a plastic window that displays its contents: a mixed selection of pastries and donuts. Only after he's opened that and snatched up a messy looking eclair does he address Bobo's presence, his words spoken like a statement as if he doesn't care to actually get an answer, but he needs something to say.]
5/20-ish
You new, or just get kicked back down here?