Footsteps behind him he tried to ignore to keep his gaze on the garden, but he knew he had to turn. There was no such thing as privacy, a life for himself. Moments. That was all.<br/>And thus Ryan turned on his heels, hands still on his back which he grew exceedingly happy with then there when he saw just who dared wander into the Teahouse. There wasn't anyone who would be able to see those hands form fists so tight that the knuckles grew white. Only if someone had been in the garden looking in the window he had been looking out of.<br/><br/>His face didn't hold his usual mask. No, it was more. It seemed it froze into pure ice. It didn't show the fast swings in emotions, only what surfaced first and grew rapidly stronger. Ryan was angry and he glared ice cold daggers at the man before him. How dared this man step into the House? How dared he? After this long?<br/><br/>"Damon," he said, his voice a whisper, as if none should hear the other man's name. Brown eyes met brown eyes, but his could have been made out of ice.<br/>It had been half a year, he was sure.<br/>"I don't think you have ever made an appointment here, so why start now?"