He wakes up in the morning and he's still there – he does his best to ignore him as he puts the kettle on the stove, taking all the time he needs to brew his cup of tea to perfection.
He knows he's watching over his shoulder as he sits down to write a letter to Lisbon; he's mildly annoyed at his nosiness, but there's nothing he can really do about it.
(He feels rather than sees the smirk that tugs at the other's lips. He just pretends he doesn't.)
He finds him again at the post office, snooping around as he scribbles a few more words at the bottom of his letter and hands it to the lady in charge.
Later on he takes a stroll along the beach, listens to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. However, he can still sense his presence – following him at some distance – and that's enough to turn his little piece of heaven into a miserable hell.
"Why don't you just leave me alone?" he utters at last, turning around to face him.
The shadow shrugs noncommittally. "Where else should I go? You killed me."
He sighs, then slowly walks away.