Howard, by contrast, has seen plenty of Orc. Orc sleeping, Orc drunk, Orc passed out on the District Ten couch while Avoxes vacuum around his feet. Howard's snuck in at hours when he knows even a waking Orc would be too incapacitated to get up and argue with him, and he's made sure his friend wasn't drowning in vomit, and sometimes he sat on the edge of the bed and talked to him about the day in a sort of one-sided conversation.

He's just been avoiding Orc when he's awake, and he's been doing a good job of that until today. He sees Orc coming and quickly look for an escape, but right now it's closed off unless he outright runs, and that's just going to make his Escort drag him back in here. To tell the truth, he has no idea how Orc will respond to the last fight they had.

So he just sinks into his clothing in the armchair he's curled up in, like a cat in front of a fireplace, and pulls his hood over his head as if that'll be perfect camouflage. See no evil, he thinks, and can't find it in himself to laugh.