Disembarking from the train to take a gander over all the new arrivals was going to be something that he did every platform, it seemed. Look for people he knew, measure up new people, though after the mission and the whole de-age thing he'd learn you can't really tell much about people from their looks.

One person in particular did catch his eye and for a moment V felt his spirits lift and he almost smiled. Until he remembered all of the missed calls, the number of texts from Kerry that his agent had gently told him about once things had been powered on. He'd only had the opportunity to go through a few messages on the long walk back from the luggage carriage.

His approach was cautious and clearly restrained. Kerry could not doubt pick apart V's body language even when he was guarded and acting professional, but V'd fallen into the habit of not particularly trying to mask what he felt when he was around Kerry. There is some guilt, but likely not as much as Kerry felt he needed to show, and he certainly wasn't throwing himself at Kerry's feet begging for forgiveness.

"Kerry!" He raised his hand on approach, a more curt greeting than he'd normally give. This was way more awkward than V was expecting. He knew if Kerry was angry he'd have to be careful what he said or it'd be misconstrued in some way, probably. "It's been a, uh, while." Lame. That was lame. He knew it was lame.

All V really wanted to do, in truth, was just hug the rockerboy and bury his face into his shoulder. He'd missed Kerry enough to make himself sick.