Dirk's face twists into an ugly grimace, lip curling and the corners of his mouth turning down sharply. He can make expressions like that in private, where Steven can't see him and know just how much he detests this.

He doesn't expect to hear Steven leave from where he is. He doesn't even know how the man got in because Steven's timing fucking sucks.

There's no way to guarantee Steven's gone, so he ignores the 'offer' for a while, ignores the time he's spending 'ignoring' the offer, and ignoring the time he's ignoring, and so on.

But after a certain point his determination not to have his decision of when he stopped work because of Steven loops back around from staying put because he didn't want to stop because of Steven to staying put because he didn't want to leave because of Steven Durante.

The problem isn't just that he can't hear Steven, though, it's that he can't Hear him. He's never stopped missing the omniscience of having the narrative dictation of canon and reality beamed directly into his brain all the time.

Eventually--

When's eventually? Minutes? Hours?

Who gives a fuck.

--he rappels down the inside of the Lapras' neck at a speed that more closely approximates a straight drop, which probably makes some interesting noises and definitely warns Steven of Dirk's progress before he drops out from behind a flipper to land on his feet.

'And there he is' is a sentence that could be written by either author at that moment. From Dirk's perspective, that's the second thought. The first thought is he brought a book.

The third thought is an internal recognition of both resentment and dread.

Externally, Dirk's face is stone. And if Steven's looking for open wounds, he'll be disappointed; the skin next to his tattoo is sutured tight with some black thread.

But be it 'work' related or merely circumstantial, Dirk's hair is pretty dishevelled, so he's clearly been in there a while.