So because this is Erik's apartment he is in fact, present, usually on the periphery of things. He's not the kind of host (he would in fact maintain he is not the host at all, despite living here and providing the food) who circulates and refills drinks and inquires after everyone's comfort or how they're finding the food. He just expects that the meal is good because he made it, and everything else seems superfluous.

But he's there, and he doesn't look miserable. Out of place? Yes. Even in his own home he doesn't fit in in this kind of cheerfully cohesive mass. That's all right, though. He likes the edges, where he can watch and be aware that he's part of what made this happen.

So he's not miserable, or angry even if he is a little unsettled and virtually always has a full wine glass. It's--a change, that's for certain. He doesn't know what else it is, but it is that.