Milo fell into the usual routine. Breakfast. Boiling pot. Blood in a mug. It seemed like breakfast, lunch, and dinner were the only times he could get a word in with the red head on his couch. He contemplated what to say. If anything and sipped at the cup thoughtfully, trying to quell the throbbing of his headache.<br/><br/>"I'd still be nice to put a name to your face you know." Milo finally said, lazily dragging his feet across the wooden floor and stopping by the couch. It was almost like dejavu. Here he was leaning again the back of the couch, mug in hand and trying to coax the nameless man to talk again. Not that he expected it to go much better.<br/><br/>"It's cute- we have a little routine and everything and it's only been two days." He teased humorlessly. It hadn't felt like two days had gone by. It felt like a perpetual agony. "Might have to start giving you a name myself. How about Nick? Maybe..." He grasped for a name, twirling a finger dramatically. "Aaron?"