"Good," Tamislin looked relieved the man was inclined to go for tea. He'd just put some more plain water on the table as well and things would no doubt sort themselves from there. And biscuits. Biscuits with sugar on them tended to help as well.
He took another moment to make sure the human was doing alright with the railings, but those, at least, were sturdy enough on the first couple of floors. It was only past the third floor that they went missing from time to time, and since his appartment was conveniently located on that mysterious floor of many boundaries, he figured they would be alright..
"He seems to prefer long term investors who do not interfere with his business," the short fellow admitted as he led the way, going slowly to accommodate for the Detective's pace, "And overcharging people for the holes in the walls he calls 'plush-sized appartments'." At least, he thought it was 'plush'. Perhaps it was 'plus'? Well, no matter. The human was likely too intoxicated to really notice anyway.
There was little done about decorating the stairways, though the half-cleaned graffitti on the second floor at least gave the impression that [i]someone[/i] tried. There had been a nonsensical message there about Alice and where she'd been, but now all that remained was 'Al' and 'ere' and some undefined stripes. Tamislin did not know of anyone in the building called 'Alice', but it had to be said that he hardly knew everybody. The top floors, especially, tended to cycle through tenants at an express rate.
Tamislin adjusted the shoulderbag and departed the staircase to wander down the hallway of the third floor. He made sure not to hurry too noticeably, but there were wards that he'd set, and he had to check and deactivate some of them to allow passage. With the human taking his time, and being slightly less sober and keen-eyed, it likely made no difference. Besides, the elf told himself, considering the books the detective had confiscated from him, he should know the subject of magic was at least one that [i]interested[/i] him..
He wove his hands in front of the door, his keys in hand, pretending to juggle them one-handedly into revealing the appropriate key for this door only and breathed out a passphrase that would make no sense to most people. All was in order, all was fine, he'd made it back and he and his guest would be safe inside. He put the brass item in the lock and turned it, waiting for the human to show before opening the door and holding it for the Detective.
The small hallway that led into the appartment was dark and disturbingly slim until the short fellow turned on the light and it became a pleasant and welcoming sight of warm browns and muted reds instead. "I'm home," he called softly ahead, then paused to wait for something, before shrugging at the lack of response and turning to take off his bag and putting it down and shrugging out of his coat to hang on the lower of the pair of coat racks. There was a coat on the upper rack, that must belong to someone taller than him, along with a scarf that looked fairly used. Tamislin touched it, apparently out of habit, before pointing the Detective into what was an almost cozy livingroom and kitchen combination.
The left side seemed to comprise mostly of two large if slightly old and obviously used bookcases, standing snugly side to side, stuffed with books in a wide range of topics, and unfinished homework on the low table near a painfully second hand couch full of coffee stains.
There was a pillow on the ground, as well as a book that lay open somewhere in the middle, and appeared to have pictures of plants in them, and a pencil that must have rolled away slightly, discarded on the horribly grass-coloured rug that covered the wooden floor around the table.
The kitchen was less cluttered with two chairs that were fitted tightly against the thin table and a barstool, that stood closer to the sink and kitchenette. Tamislin would