Something in Kate's stomach twists at the sound of his voice. She's not pissed anymore, she doesn't think. But she's...she's been thinking about him and what didn't happen but should have. Part of her wants to pretend she's not here but he can probably hear the television and she's never been a chicken anyway.

"Door's open," she calls instead and doesn't bother moving. She knows what she looks like right now. He can just flipping deal with it.