Reynolds had always interpreted Lar—HR as a good listener, someone who looked you straight in the eye when you talked. Of course, that was before the aforementioned butterfly's metamorphosis.
Over time, of course, as he found all good things either die or peel back their skin and reveal a rotten interior, he realized that HR was actually a pathetic listener. The times HR stared straight into his eyes - times he tried to pretend didn't happen - were often interrupted sporadically by short glances down and, occasionally, horrifically savage mumbles under the older man's breath.
Even more unpredictable, however, were the brief moments in which Reynolds' mind blanked out and HR slowly, without meaning to, hovered a little too closely to his co-host's face, and his downcast eyelids twitched with a little too much conscious self-control, and suddenly he gasped and almost fell down, trying to get away from what Reynolds didn't know was his lips.