An older man opened the door; a man that Ash had only ever seen at a distance, or very quickly in passing. He recognized some of the features that had copied themselves into the lines of Miles' face, although in this man they were stronger, settled, more defined. He was shorter than Ash by quite a few inches, four, five maybe? So when he opened the door, Ash found himself looking down, but only slightly. This man was older than him, but he didn't look old enough to have a son Miles' age. Miles had never really talked about his parents, and Ash had never really asked. He wasn't one to pry or probe for answers unless the questions were particularly intriguing to him, and very rarely were parents intriguing. Perhaps this man was a teenage father, having knocked up some girl when he was young and irresponsible. Maybe he had come to be Miles' guardian in some other fashion, although Ash doubted that. The resemblance was unmistakable. It didn't matter. Ash wasn't here to see this man, he was here to see Miles. Parents were merely obstructions made to politely tiptoe around, that was all.<br/><br/>Ash opened his mouth to introduce himself, as a proper boy should, when the man started in on him instantly, spitting out a string of sentences that made little sense to him. "I'm sorry?" he replied curiously, tilting his head to the right as he stared down at the man with his dark green eyes. He said some unintelligible nonsense about Ash's life being "in shambles," and then something else about a trench coat and pipe? What the hell was this guy talking about? Ash's initial reaction was to tell the strange man off in that condescending tone of his, but that typically didn't go over so well with adults, and Ash didn't want to offend the man so greatly that he wouldn't be allowed to see Miles. He was still curious about what had happened to him, after all.<br/><br/>"Uh, Mr. Hawkins, I'm guessing? I think you must have me confused with someone else," Ash said slowly, running a large hand through his damp hair, pushing it out of his face. "I don't know anything about being associated with the police, it's too hot to wear a trench coat, and I don't know anyone who still smokes a pipe." Well, not a<i>tobacco</i>pipe, anyway. "My name is Ash Vicario. I'm a friend of Miles' from school. He texted me this morning asking me to bring over his assignments since he wasn't going to be in class for a while." He let the heavy bag he was carrying on his shoulder to slip down and began to unzip it, revealing the numerous books that had been shoved inside. Physics, mathematics, history, two copies of each as Ash was hauling his own books as well. Placed on top of the textbooks was a dense, beaten up paperback copy of Fyodor Dostoevsky's<i>Crime and Punishment</i>, the front cover facing outward. The classic novel had been assigned for reading in Ash's advanced English class the year prior, but the young man was reading it again for his own enjoyment. The story of a man who committed a murder, slowly driving himself insane with paranoia, appealed to him immensely. He found the moral and existential struggle fascinating, certainly more interesting than any of the buzzing chatter his friends typically forced upon him.<br/><br/>Ash gave the man an innocent smile and closed his bag, hiking it up again. "I'm sorry if I'm here at a bad time. I figured I'd come right after school, as it seemed the most convenient." He tore his eyes away from Mr. Hawkins' suspicious face to peer curiously behind him. The Hawkins' home looked like any other, at least from the small amount that Ash could see. The man's harsh introduction-interrogation came off as someone expecting an unwelcome visitor, certainly not someone innocuous like Ash. He imagined a person like that to live in a rather eccentric place, perhaps with unusual furniture and trinkets, strange bits and pieces giving hints about a life lead by a unique and perhaps reality-challenged individual. Or maybe Ash was just making up stories in his head, because this man had confused him, and intrigued him, and very rarely did<i>anyone</i>do that.<br/><br/>"Do you always assault your visitors with bizarre questions, Mr. Hawkins?" Ash laughed, returning his gaze to the older man, licking his lips reflexively. He was supposed to be polite, to only say nice things to parents and guardians, like a good boy should. But sometimes he couldn't help himself. Right that moment, the allure of a light tease had been too much for him to refuse.