He's still not gone, which strikes you as odd: normally, this would be the place where the dream ends. You sigh and press your back against the door, without offering a reply. After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up:
"Come on, man. I...I need this."
Your groan of irritation makes your thoughts very plain.
"How do you need this? What...how on earth can you justify doing this?"
You groan. Of course, he went with "Complications". That was the catch-all excuse for strange assholes with mysterious agendas, wasn't it? Every time someone asked "Why didn't you tell me you were my father", or "why did you let the vizier kill the king", it was always "complicated". You voice your opinion in the most eloquent way possible.
"Complicated my ass. Get out of here before I call the cops."
The distinctive smack of a palm meeting a face answers you, followed by a saddened sigh.
"Come on, man. Don't...don't act like you want it, or nothin'. It's just like you read about."
"So you get mindfucked, broken in, and have kinky sex forever and ever. Pass."
He rests his forehead on the door; you can feel the slight change in pressure. He speaks after another sigh.
"Look, you...you made the character, man. You made the character, you've read the...everything. You know it's going to be awesome. I mean, what have you got here, that you can't get...wherever?"
"A decently-paying job that I enjoy, a small but close-knit group of friends, and a complete box set of Avatar: The Last Airbender?"
For a moment, there is silence. Then, he responds.