"You gave me the address," is all he says, giving him a hum of a noise, extending first the package with the postage stamps all over it. "Found this on your door." And he'd known it would come today because he's been the one tracking the number and figuring out when it would show up. He gives no fist bump because that is completely against what he's here for.

Both himself and A, neither of them want such a casual greeting.

"What did you get?" he prods, as if he doesn't already know exactly what it looks like.