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"Probably more that we're running out of time or something equally ..." Jeremiah shook his head. "Would you carry the tray, Zac?" Just because he was getting out the treats that he kept (and made) for the cats for Mogget.

"I don't know that that is the case. I've seen her and I know she's in Russia." Instead of scratching fingers through his hair he was resting his palm against Mogget's fur. "I'm going to go by and talk to Aleksy." There was a smirk there, albeit a sad one. "I'm on fire according to him, my back at least ..."

Blue-green eyes focused on Zac.

"Do you mean about her? Or what about Zac? Ask specifically, I'll answer, because we're covering a lot here and there's a lot that I know."

"Information dump it is," Jeremiah replied. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last. Sometimes there was just a lot to cover. The hand-made box of treats were opened, a particular container opened with the cinnamon ones for Mogget. He was a few steps behind Zac with the other things for tea.

"Alg and I are together," he said, "and he's living here with me." All the signs were there now with the extra items by the front door. "I gave him my family signet ring, he gave me his pinky ring. Not that anyone would notice anything different about him, the ring fits on his pinky." Jeremiah was the one with the glaringly obvious thing on his ring finger.

"To be entirely frank, I've been busy with work and trying to practice magic over there. When I'm not doing that, I'm here and in some level of pain." He set the tray with tea down and started to pour. "This is the first day that I've actually been up and moving around a lot ..."

The detective shook his head. "It's part of what happened to my back, the scarring isn't normal looking and I'm perpetually cold." It explained why he always looked like he was dressed for cooler weather despite the warmer temperatures. Cups were set aside and Jeremiah was finally setting Mogget down on the couch along with a small bowl of treats for him. "As for the eyes ... Perhaps it's a side effect of going to other ashdown so much or what I've been in contact with. I've met smoky, Zac, if I haven't been clear about that. If I could end him, I would, but when I tried to punch him it didn't go over well."

"It's not my place to explain ... that to you," Jeremiah shook his head. He was aware but it was a different issue entirely. "I love you and you're my son and Algie respects that." It was a fact.

"I've no idea if it was punching or the fact that I looked. In fact, I am worried that I've influenced it somehow ..." He was moving to sit down on the couch, the standing making him tired and his back was beginning to ache once more. "... but I lost all of my memories of what happened after we got back from the forest until I went back and talked with Heliodora."

The mentioning of ice and the maze had him pausing, his expression darkening a moment before it smoothed away. "It may have been, I've no idea. I spoke to Heliodora about magic, Zac, how to use it there and I understand it. When that thing killed Algie I wanted to burn the place down," he let out a breath, "but that rage went cold and ..." Jeremiah shook his head. "It's taken a few days to warm up from that. That was why all the ice. I was cold and angry and-"

His fingers were clenched into fists and he let out a breath.

It would take a moment but Jeremiah's expression smoothed, the cold would fade and he would be back to calm.

"As well as can be expected since she knew about the deal. Smoky owes me, Zac," he spoke after he was silent for a while. "Anything I want, anytime that I want it. The caveat is that I can never be friends with Sunny. I can understand, I can safeguard, I can visit for business," there's a look on his face, one that is not happy, "but I cannot be friends." Jeremiah looked over to him. "To be clear, had I been aware that this was the cost, I would have turned it down."

In the next moment he was leaning forward to fix his tea. "I'm not exactly pleased with it and I'm working within the confines of it but if there's a way around it, I'll take it. Sunny deserves better than what has happened to her." I miss you all the time; those sad eyes of hers. "I know how old she is, I know how many times she's done this - this is the nineteenth time - and that there's no such man as Jeremiah Tailor."

Jeremiah looked up. "Not that I don't think the portrait is of me, it looks too much like me but that he's probably not named Tailor."

"Well you said she found out something about the portraits? What was it?" Jeremiah kept the tea cup in hand, letting the warmth seep into him.

"She probably does," he admitted, smiling a little bit. It's a sad smile. "... and I agree. It would be good if we could but so far it seems to just be at random. Something beyond us picking them out. Sometimes they're helpful, sometimes they're useless ..."

The cup was finally sat back down. "Or useless and annoying." There was a roll of eyes before he remembered to share another detail.

"Ah, about it." Jeremiah is careful to not speak about the enemy directly. "It has only recently woken up after a fifteen hundred year sleep."

"No, I think ..." Jeremiah started and then stopped. "I don't know that that is the case but, yes, it's waking up which means we're likely on some kind of timetable that we don't even know the extent of."

Something about the portrait, about himself at a cairn overlooking the sea ... A weight settled uncomfortably in his gut but was pushed away. "I can't say that I'm thrilled for the confirmation or the story that goes with it."

He looked down at the picture that was on the phone and the resemblance was striking. "I had thought the same but now that you say she's confirmed it, I can see it." There were certain features that were not quite the same but he could see Zac in there more than he saw Sunny when he really looked.

"Perhaps we should be looking into this, if only it make shed some light on a few things. Maybe provide something we can use ..." He shook his head. "I do know the painter is real even if the name seems as if it is mocking us."

"If we've been doing this multiple times, Zac, it stands to reason that perhaps it waking up has something to do with it."

Jeremiah finally leaned forward to pick up a sandwich of his own and take a bite. A swallow of tea followed and he was settling comfortably back onto the couch. "Yes we can. Again, we may not like what we find. Likewise I think looking into the stories around that time period - newspaper clippings, old town record books, police reports if I can find them - would prove beneficial. If those paintings are of us, another us, somewhere in the late 1800s, wasn't it?"