[It's interesting to note where they're different and the same. Dick is messy - all his apartments have been a fascinating collection of boxes and trash. But they've also never been homes. Even the loft he's in now is home because of the people - not the amount of his belongings kept there. If it came down to that he'd never have had a home at all and, as a kid growing up in a travelling circus, then an orphan in a home that didn't fit who he was, that's something that feels almost natural to him by now.

The mess, though. The mess would drive Wash crazy.]

The only person here from my world is my brother. Which is about as complicated as it sounds.

[And another brother, from another world. And another him from yet another. It's enough to give a person an identity crisis.

Dick assesses the room quickly and automatically. He doesn't need to register the exits - all the apartments here are the same and he's been in enough to know. He does look for the kind of place someone might store a weapon. Anywhere set up where someone might be concealed. Automatic. The large windows make the room feel overlooked, but that's not something Dick thinks he's likely to complain about.

He sheds his coat, noting where they hang, and steps forward to offer to take Wash's from him - the surroundings losing his attention as his focus settles back where it's been pulled the whole time. There's no other priority but re-familiarizing himself with Wash - if it takes starting from his boots and working up. But, for all the back and forth over it before, he doesn't kneel.

He doesn't do anything he hasn't been told.]

I missed you. Do I get to show you how much?