Matteo sat at the kitchen table, slumped in his chair, the newspaper propped up against the edge of the table. Every so often he'd frown and try to rearrange it, make it neater, but the middle pages always slipped out again. He was stumbling through the funnies, giggling occasionally when he got the jokes.
(Which he mostly didn't, but he just assumed that the ones he didn't get probably weren't that funny anyway.)

He was, of course, in his lounging-about-the-apartment clothes - just a t-shirt. Nothing else. He could have done without the shirt, but there was something about being completely unclothed, even in his own apartment, that unnerved him. It felt.. indecent.
...
Right. This from the guy who, nine days out of ten, doesn't even wear pants.

Knock, knock.

Simple as that - someone's at the door.

Matteo jolted and dropped the paper, the sheets spilling out all over the floor.

"Coming!"
And he hurried over.
He opened the door just a few inches, peering nervously out.
"Hello...?"

It's a girl. Tawny hair, the color of dust in sunlight.

"Hi."

She has Cela's voice, but softer. Less hard-edged, somehow.

Cela's face, too, aside from the change of coloring.

He stared,... frowned a little... stared some more.
She'd changed.

"...Cela?... You're back!"

Matteo quickly caught her in a tight hug - then just as quickly let go, holding her out from him to look her over.
"How are you?" Pause. "What happened to your hair?"

She hugs him back.

"I... I'm not quite sure. It was very... bright."

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either.

It was just odd.

And now she's golden, rather than brown.

In Matteo's humble opinion, she looked sun-bleached.

"But you're okay?"
He looked like he'd rather like to hug her again. He'd been worried.

...Sure, the deity of Summer had seemed like an easygoing sort, but... you know. Gods.

"I think so. He said that... he'd see me again... but...." She shrugs a bit, smiles a bit. "I'm fine, I think."

"Can I come in?"

They're kindof on the doorstep.

"Wh- oh. Oh, of course - come in, come in..."

Matteo stepped aside to let her in, and after that, hovered around her.

"Um,... Can I - get you anything? D'you want to rest...?"
There's something funny about a faun acting like an anxious mother hen.

"I... I think I just need to sit down, for a while."

Divinity tends to make one weak in the knees.

"Would that be alright?"

"Sure."
Of course it's alright, said his tone of voice.

Matteo ushered her towards the heap of cushions that passed for a couch (what? It was comfortable, thankyouverymuch), nibbling at his lower lip.

"You're sure I can't get you anything...?"

She smiles, kindof.

"Coffee?"

She likes coffee.

And she curls up on the couch without a second thought, dusty gold wings and dusty gold hair and sun-gilded skin.

"Coffee?"
Blink.
"Right. Yes. Got it."

He disappeared into the kitchen. There was some rustling through cupboards, and some rattling and other such noises that accompany coffeemaking. From time to time - every minute or so - he'd peek into the next room, to check that Cela was still okay.

Then he was right next to her again.
"Um. Cela? D'you want sugar or milk in your coffee?"
He couldn't just call out to her from the kitchen, goodness no. He had to go all the way back into the room.
Silly faun.

"Both, please."

At least for today, she wasn't in the mood for drinking it black.

"Okay." Matteo gave a small nod, and returned to the kitchen.
He came back with the drink in a ceramic mug that looked heavier than it was, and tentatively nudged her with it.

"Here you go."