"Hey, Barth." Trafalgar looked him over, unhurried. "How've you been? It's been a few months. And you're still shooting up, by the look of it. You're looking good."
"You think?" Barth's hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing at it. "The students say that a lot, actually."
"The students." Trafalgar's mouth tugged. "The girls, you mean. Sounds like you're popular."
Colour crept up Barth's face, quick and telling, and Trafalgar knew he'd hit the mark dead on.
"Come in, before you overheat on my doorstep." He stepped back to let him through. "Fair warning, your sister's been tearing the place apart top to bottom since before dawn. Every room. Twice."
"That's..." Barth huffed a small laugh. "Well. It's been a while since we've seen each other. That tracks, honestly."
