"Mike," Stanley said. The word was delivered with a profound, effortless warmth, the kind of warmth that wasn't a social performance but a fundamental part of his character, as natural and unthinking as breathing.
He reached out to offer a hand, but halfway there, he seemed to decide that a mere handshake was too shallow for the history they shared. He closed the distance, pulling Mike into a brief, solid embrace, the kind of greeting shared by men who have long since abandoned the pretense of formal boundaries in favor of genuine, unvarnished camaraderie.
"Good that you're here. Come in, come in."
"How are you?" Mike asked, stepping into the amber-lit sanctuary of the house.
"Better than yesterday," Stanley replied, stepping back to usher him deeper into the warmth. A weary but energized glint danced in his eyes. "Spent the afternoon on a site visit that finally provided the empirical evidence for everything we've been shouting about in theoretical meetings for months."
