"Sailor! It's good to see you, come on in." There's not much of a way to lead because no one living in this house has paid for renovations but Jean does have a pretty obvious, well. Jean calls it their office. It is not an office. By no definition could it be considered an office, it's not even a separate fucking room, but it is a little work desk, and a chair, and drawings. Dozens and dozens of drawings tacked to the wall, sorted carefully on the desk, hanging in places from bits of string that droop near the ceiling. People are the main feature, though there are landscapes, technical drawings, cut-aways of plants and geological features. There, on the nearby window that is completely plastered in the pencil art, are scenes from Parade Day; they've been colored, only partly, with a rusty pigment like old blood.

Many people Pomni has known or seen are featured here, and a few no one here has, because they're from Jean's world. All are depicted in candid moments; laughing, thinking, working especially.

"I do appreciate you answering the advertisement," Jean continues as they wander towards the kitchen; there's a carafe of coffee from Oak and Iron, and soon there will be two mugs of coffee, one for each of them. "I, hahaha, I have a bit of a reverse relationship to certain topics of artistic depiction...I'm so used to doing technical specs, blueprints, and reports, is the thing! Drawing clothing is something I do to avoid the anatomy that I don't draw! I'm hoping to get practice in..."

Hey Lord Erik, did you know that when you called Jean an artistic soul and they fobbed you off about it, you'd said something that would proceed to haunt them? 'cause it did.