Rodney didn't shower as often as he should. It wasn't because he didn't like being clean, because he did. It's just because the only privacy he got was on leave. And it all became a build up of anxiety. Usually nobody harassed him, but it was unbearable when the showers weren't empty, and nobody kept a regular schedule.

Sometimes when they came in, they were drenched in unidentifiable material. Sometimes it was blood. When it was blood, Rodney left. Overall, cleaning had become a stressful weekly burden. He peeled off his clothes in the open room, feeling exposed and bony and small and ugly. He went under the shower. He scrubbed, sometimes before the water had even gotten hot, he left, and sat in his room, breathing and trying to forget and praying thankfully when no one had come. When someone else came in the shower, he prayed that he could deal with it better. He thanked God for his opportunities. He wanted to be here to serve. The showers were a small thing. There was nothing wrong with them. Nothing morally compromising. It was his own...hang ups.

This time, he stood clothed for a while, like usual, waiting and feeling like every minute he used up, he could have been showering and no one would be here and he could be back in his room. Finally, he divested himself of his jacket, and his shirt, until there was nothing but his towel, his scars, and his tattoos.

His flip flops felt loud against the shower floor. It was like camp, he told himself. Like camp, and if he did it quickly...

He twisted the water on, and stood under it, even though it was cold.

Lawrence showered often these days and generally it was in the comfort of his own shower (technically Melvin’s, actually his) and without the burden of anyone else to trouble him. And they did trouble him, stripped bare of his personas and the comfort of a mask he was left strangely vulnerable, like a hermit crab moving shells.

Still, he did not know true fear and discomfort was no reason not to pursue what he wanted. The tattoos had been interesting and he rapidly deduced that the most simple way to see all of them consisted of finding Rodney’s routine if he had one and insinuating himself into it.

It had turned out to be harder than he had thought but that day he had managed it, silently entering and stripping off his clothing, neatly folding them and setting them aside. He did not wear flip flops but did however, keep on his watch. Every inch of him was perfectly groomed and cared for and the only real blemish he had was a single scar on his neck. He was thinner than he looked when clothed.

There were also a lot of showers. He didn’t go to the ones furthest away, instead he stood at the shower next to Rodney, he turned it on and did wait for it to heat up before he went anywhere near it.

When he spoke, there was something more calm than usual about his voice. “Something always goes wrong with the showers when you need them.” he said conversationally. “Thought that I had seen the last of these public ones.”

"Somebody on your six," Seven warned with a gravelly rumble.

The band of rocky beads had been transferred from Rodney's hair to his wrist.

"Thank you," Rodney said under his breath, the panic already picking up. They probably wouldn't notice him, they usually didn't, he could cut it short, he could come back later.

He was surprised at the familiar voice.

"Jan," Rodney said, trying to cover himself with one hand and get the water out of his eyes with the other. "Um," he breathed, not knowing what to say and in clear distress, "I didn't um, expect-"

He was pale, and above the tattoos there were scars. Little scars, burn scars, mean scars, scars meant to be hidden. Long, striped scars and the strange impressions of objects, faded with time. He was thin. His skin wasn't healthy. The months of cafeteria canned vegetables had a toll.

The tattoos were the only vibrant thing about him, and these Rodney had showed him in Rome. There was another in black and white, the last supper, across his chest. In scroll were the words DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD THAT THEY WOULD DO UNTO YOU, and beneath it LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

There was a moment when Lawr hesitated at the upset response his address had prompted from Rodney, hurriedly trying to recalculate what he could have done wrong to offend him. Some individuals were strange about nudity and though he did as much research as he could he could not account for every eventuality. “Hello.” he said, but there was not perhaps the normal level of smooth conviction behind it. “Sorry, I did not mean to interrupt erm. Any alone time you may have been having.” He stepped under the water, finally warm enough to do so, but he resumed his curious stare as soon as he had swept his hair back out of his face.

The scars surprised him, flying in the face of what he had assumed Rodney to be, or rather what he had tried to deduce the other man to be. He needed care, quite considerable care by the look of him, if he had been a dog, he would have recommended another type of food.

“The tattoo is very lovely by the way.” he said tapping his own chest with his hand and setting Butch into a delighted flurry of barking and yelling about how much he liked sprinklers as the watch was passed under the spray. “I can leave if you would rather have the place to yourself, I simply assumed that it would be all right when I saw it was yourself.”

"No, it's alright," Rodney said, feeling light-headed and embarrassed and trying to convince himself it was, and above all to not return the look that Jan was giving him, and his shoulders and face began to turn red.

His water was finally starting to heat up.

"There's not much privacy down here," he said. "You don't have to leave. I can-" he put his hand on the shower knob.

“Privacy is not a problem for /me./” Lawrence said blankly, “And I would rather you did not. I would feel just awful to have interrupted you so. I won’t hear of it.” His mind was always ticking away, planning and plotting and assessing and even while he spoke another idea materialised.

“In fact.” he said. “If you don’t mind the awkwardness of it, it is very inconvenient to do rather basic tasks with one hand as you might appreciate. If you could give me a hand, I would be in your debt.”

And after letting it potentially be interpreted for a moment, he stooped to pick up his bottle of shampoo. “One simply cannot dispense it into the same hand one intends to use without quite the inconvenience.”

"Help? Jan, I couldn't possibly, I- o-oh. You mean your hand. I..."

Rodney slowly took his hand off the shower handle, although he looked like he was about to have a meltdown.

"Alright, sorry, I'll-" he fumbled for the bottle, looking determinedly at the wall. Once he had the plastic in hand, he managed, "Tell me when. Please. I'm sorry, I am sorry, I just, I never, before I came here, I lived alone, and I don't- I don't do well, with..."

Lawr remained patient, calm and polite without the slightest hint of stress himself, though there was at the very least a sympathetic edge to his expression at Rodney’s evident distress.

“When.” he said politely when he had enough of the very expensive shampoo in his hand, lazily massaging it into his hair and working up a lather, dwelling on each area for quite some time. “What don’t you do well with?” he asked curiously. “You did not seem so upset last time we spoke, does a millimeter of cloth make such a difference? I assure you that no part of me bites.” He smiled and rinsed his hair off, only to hand over another bottle whose label was in french but seemed to be conditioner and once again extended his hand. “I had two brothers, so I cannot entirely understand if it is having other people around in the shower.”

This seemed to be the first thing Lawr had said that relaxed Rodney somewhat.

"I...had two brothers too," he said. Rodney still swallowed thickly, giving Lawr a miserable nod. "It's not as if- I mean. It should all be...alright. I sculpt. N-n***s, sometimes, but its...d-different," Rodney seemed to have forgotten about washing himself, and seemed to be concentrating on making himself as small as possible. He couldn't decide which was worse to turn to Lawr, his front of his back.

What could he say? There were the scars. There was him. And all the- thoughts he shouldn't have been struggling with in the first place were made worse, not better, by the men's shower.

"What happened to your brothers?"

Lawrence found it amusing that Rodney so vehemently attached himself to the subject of brothers and permitted it solely for this reason. Anyone else asking about his family would have rapidly found themselves either diverted or lied to, but Rodney was not a threat. Like this, unclad and awkward he was the very opposite of a threat.

The mention that things SHOULD be all right held his attention all the more, trying to deduce what could be so very different about being in a shower and finding the answer he came up with frankly facinating.

“Lars is likely still with his wife, wherever he ended up I have no idea, I have not seen him in many years, it was simply not possible to. I doubt he misses me very much. Leif, well, probably still in prison. My brothers were very different as you can no doubt tell. I simply consider them past and gone as we can no longer go back once we are here.”

He sighed shallowly. “Did you have family?”

Rodney nodded, once. "My parents were- strict. My brothers...were in a car accident. I hoped they might still be alive. When I left to join the organization, they- set it up as..." Rodney continued quietly, "a suicide, and-" He shook his head, But it was a car accident. I haven't been able to find any record of them being here. So. I guess it...doesn't matter. You can't see them again anyway, can you? Sorry."

He still wasn't washing himself, standing miserably under the shower.

“My parents were rather strict too.” he said matter-of-factly. “My father especially, he had quite a temper when it came to my brothers and I and was most particularly vicious after a few too many post-work drinks with his friends. He did not hold his alcohol well. ” A trait, which to his cold disapproval Lawrence had found he shared, having woken up some mornings with extremely bad decisions made the night before waiting on him. He tried not to drink these days, finding that the danger which the experimental drinking presented was just too high.

Rodney’s immobility was noted and Lawr politely offered “I am very sorry to hear about your brothers and that you could not find them here. Are you all right? Would you like me to wash your back? I was rather good at massages at one point.” he said. “Now I am only ah hah, half good at them. You can try some of my soap if you’d like, it has a very subtle scent, perhaps you would appreciate it.”

"Y-yes. Strict," Rodney whispered, barely over the water. He finally did look at Lawr (although he stayed to his face) with a heartfelt and broken expression at Lawr's description of his home life.

"N-no," he turned down the massage, "I mean, it's nice of you to offer, but that's something more...c-couples should...do for each other, isn't it?" He seemed to finally realize what they were doing, and absently rescued his small bottle of clear, scentless wash from the shelf, where he proceeded to stare at it and lose track of his thought process altogether.

"Mine didn't drink. They just..."

Lawr shrugged his shoulders. “I can honestly say I have given massages primarily to individuals I have not been engaged in any major relationship with. But it is no problem, I understand some people are very strange about that sort of thing. I forget about the machismo culture. Everything these days is “too gay”. “
He did not press it further however but turned his attention back to bathing, very meticulously starting on his arms and covering every single inch of his body with careful attention, he smell from the soap he used just as subtle as he said but with a faint exotic undercurrent of something twined in vanilla. “My mother did not drink.” he said. “And I apologise if I am dredging up things you do not wish to talk about.”

"No. I a-asked. About your family. I know we're not supposed to here."

Rodney smiled wryly.

"Ha. I think...that's the first time I've ever been accused of being machismo. It's...not you. It's me." He watched Lawr lather up also absently, then seemed to start, realizing that he was, and fumbled with his soap and finally squeezed out a shy amount into his own palm. He uncovered himself and began to wash, although it was with zero strategy or efficiency.

"I'm still not used to the lack of privacy. There's nowhere else to go."

“It’s fine, like I say.” Lawr said with a smile. “I am not offended, I’m very glad you were able to help me out, I end up dropping the bottle far too many times and getting frustrated. Even that much I am very grateful for, I simply wanted to try to pay you back in return.”

He kept at his patient cleaning with almost an air of satisfaction, like someone colouring a paint by numbers with intent accuracy, it was uncanny how he avoided missing any spot, even when it took no small degree of gymnastics to reach difficult spots such as his back, it was like watching a cat groom itself, predatory and mindful of every spot a scent could linger or skin could go neglected. “Well.” he said. “You would be absolutely welcome to move up with Melvin and I, we had a lodger for some time but she moved out, there is a kitchen and a shower and I would be pleased to have someone else to cook for. I enjoy it you see, but I do not actually eat a great deal.”

That at least was not a lie, evident in the hint of ribs when he reached back to scrub along his spine.

"A kitchen and shower," Rodney repeated longingly. He found it a little awkward nonetheless to be discussing this over...well.

"M-maybe we could...talk about it. The stone in the dungeon is beautiful but there's n-no heating, and- if you have a...place for another roommate."

Rodney focused on washing his hands. These, at least, were familiar.

"Are you still interested? ...In...in piano lessons, I mean."

“Absolutely, Melvin was saying it was lonely without her there any longer, he’d be happy to have someone else around and we do have all the amenities, heating included and though we do not have stone, we have plenty of art.” Lawr looked completely indifferent to the fact they both were naked and might as well have been having the conversation in the cafeteria over a bowl of cereal. He moved onto his legs with Butch’s encouragement to remember his paws.

“And certainly, I would love to teach you how to play, live a little vicariously since I cannot do it as well myself any longer.”

"Art?" Rodney asked softly, and guessing, "Prints? I know you like etchings." It was easier when he only looked at himself, and Jan was just a friendly voice and a blurry, steamy presence to his left.

Lawrence nodded. "Indeed, well guessed. I have a few Dore etchings, I enjoy his work, the one I took a photo of for my old twitter avatar is my favourite. I have accumulated a few select pleasing things, the room is very clean and minimalist." He couldn't help but feel oddly surprised that the other man had paid even this much attention to what he had had to say or enjoyed, most people as a general rule listened only long enough to be polite and then promptly forgot everything they had been told. It made them easy to lie to.

Rodney paid careful attention to people's likes, dislikes, and family. It was what had made him a good host and attendant while he had lived in New York. Each preference and detail made a soft emotional impression, like a music note, and he was...sensitive to discordance.

Jan's notes were like his music, clean and immaculate, and although he had talked about his family it had been with distance, not pain. Everything about Jan was subtle and cool and sharp. If he was a scent note, he would be peppermint, sage, sandalwood, and crisp snow. The creaminess of the vanilla matched Lawr, although he was more...brisk than sweet. Rodney found the coolness more relieving more than alarming. It was one less sorrow to shoulder.

Although whenever Lawr looked over at him Rodney found all the blood rushing to his face, and for now he was just grateful that was the only place.

"You still haven't...seen mine yet."

“I have not.” Lawr agreed. “And I should hope to.” he sidestepped entirely the temptation of a joke despite his desire to pursue it (humour was hard and he did not often get the chance to chase it down) as he assumed that Rodney would not very well appreciate it.

“I imagine your work would be heavy with emotion, I cannot seem to capture emotion in mine.” he smiled sadly and got back to rinsing off his skin, still looking thoughtfully at Rodney in a distant sort of way.

“I wish I could have played for you.”

"I thought your piece captured emotion beautifully," Rodney said softly. "I try to put warm, calm feelings into my own work. I want to give people the feeling of comfort."

Lawrence laughed. “Now that is a rare feeling indeed, one I cant say I have felt often in my life at all. Comfort.” he repeated the word as if saying it might aid its understanding. “Comfort. Seems like a rare area of sanctuary in such a chaotic world. You of all people though I feel might encounter success.”

He smiled in an amused sort of way, conspiratorially adding. “I am normally very easily distressed by this group shower thing if I am honest, but you do a good job of exuding comfort even here.”

"R-really?" Rodney said, looking at the wall hard. "It's you. You're very...calm. Are you sure the words you were looking for with my projections w-weren't abject terror?"

Lawr looked slightly hurt, veering into crestfallen. “Oh. I am sorry, I did not mean to misjudge how you felt I thought I was doing rather well.” he picked up his bottles and held them to his chest. “Should..I...” he inclined his head in the direction of the exit, tossing his long wet hair out of his face briskly as he did so. “I erm. Should I go? I did not mean to ...scare? You?”

"Y-you're...doing fine," Rodney whispered, "I'm...alright. I enjoy talking with you. I just prefer it with...with clothes on. Nobody else has- seen me like this and I-"

Lawr paused and looked briefly down at himself, finding the sensation strangely dizzying, so much so that he set down the bottles again to brace one hand against the wall while the strange spike of nausea passed. He could not explain to Rodney why he objected in a general way to being unclad so didn’t try. “I apologise.” he said earnestly. “If I am intruding upon your privacy in that way. I would have left had it not been you, I do not feel the same aversion around you.” he softly added, almost in a distant thoughtful way. “And I hardly noticed you were naked at all, you always seem more open and vulnerable than everyone else, clothing does not conceal that.”

"I- it's...the same, I mean," Rodney was still looking at the wall, "I've always left. Before."

“I am glad you did not leave this time. Quite a few people on the island avoid me at this point, I should be disappointed if I was so offensive on the eyes or that my own gaze as harmless as its intentions are that you had to leave. I enjoy our discussions and I am pleased I received a chance to admire your body art once again and relive my appreciation of its fine work.” he ran his hand through his hair, sighing shallowly. “ I did not intend to inspire “abject terror” as you put it, I prefer you at your ease.”

"A-admire," Rodney repeated, his shoulders and face flushing as he held his arms. "It's...just on my arms, if you want to see them. He did do...a beautiful job on the artwork. It's the only part of me that I- that's any..." he swalllowed, and finished quietly, "good." He smiled a little wryly at an inwardly-turned joke, It's just not...something I'm at ease with. Why would people avoid you?"

“I would disagree on that particular self-damning implication, on both the literal and metaphorical front” he said with a slightly sharp scolding tone. “There is most certainly nothing aesthetically displeasing about your body and I say that with the eye of one used to observing classical nude artwork and so on, you have very excellent proportions and simply set it off with the amendments you have made to it.” He did not make the mistake of looking down at himself again, instead turning off the shower and retrieving his things properly. “But if you are not at ease that is completely acceptable.”

“I enjoy talking to you.” he said with a smile. “Sorry to have surprised you like this. As for why people avoid me, I had a rather unpleasant relationship with a feisty lady who went on to tall about me as if I were the adversary himself. I’ve all but sworn off women.” he said with a chuckle. “At least the women here, far too much sin around.”

Rodney's flush turned pale at the sworn off women content. "Y-yes, haha," he said, hurrying to turn off the shower himself and going very quickly for a towel.

"I...d-don't think dating's for me, either."

Lawr was more leisurely with his towel, taking the time to dry off his skin and hair before wrapping it about his waist. Everything the man seemed to do was slow and leisurely, unhurried in a way which seemed to imply he could afford to waste time. “Can’t say I blame you. I have been burned so many times in my life, I should have learned my lesson.” He placed the bottles of shampoo neatly in a shower bag after drying them off. “But loneliness does things to a person I suppose.”

"Y-yes," Rodney agreed, tucking back his hair. "Did you want to see some of those sculptures? I only kept the small ones. My old website has some pictures. We don't get internet here, do we? I brought my laptop but it doesn't work. With all the...fields. And, fear, I guess."

Rodney tugged on his clothes so quickly he nearly tripped over them, leaning heavily against one of the stalls.

“Absolutely.” Lawr said, taking his time as he dressed and raising a brow at Rodney for his haste. “And no, no internet, we can reach it off the island, what we have is mostly static and downloaded parts of the internet, archived. Perhaps your site was saved, who knows?” He shrugged. “I do happen to know a man who can runic laptops also.”
Pulling on his trousers he set about the buttons of his shirt and was duly impeccably dressed again. He took a deep satisfied breath and exhaled. “I do so enjoy a shower.” he said.

Rodney smiled weakly at him, but seemed a little less shaky with a long-sleeved cotton shirt pulled over his head.

"I'd...like to. M-maybe, once- I'm promoted. But I don't think...they'll ever promote me." This was in all likelihood going to be his life, and his situation with showering, forever.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that, I have gone my entire time on this island without actually fighting anything at all and with oh, about three spars. I don’t even attend missions I conscientiously object to. And yet here I am, promoted to intermediate.” he winked. “Stick by your guns, there are those in power who respect individuals with opinions and morals though it may not look like it.”

Lawrence when dressed in his comfortable looking well-tailored clothing seemed to alter slightly in his behaviour, less formal, more gentle and amicable, as if he somehow drew strength from the attire itself. “So never say never.”

"You haven't?" Rodney asked, some hope in the question. He was slower about drying his hair. His shirt clung damply to him because of the haste.

"I believe that God...directs our steps. That the paths we take are purposeful. So I don't think I've come here by mistake. But sometimes I wonder at it. I prayed...at the time, it felt like it was the right thing to do. Where I was supposed to be. But there isn't much of a place for me here. It's not a job with a lot of room for kindness."

Lawr shook his head. “No. I don’t agree with fighting and it does not agree with me. So I simply don’t do it.” He very carefully Did Not Stare at the cling of the shirt.

“And I agree, if you were supposed to be here you were supposed to be here. Perhaps because it is a job without a great deal of kindness, you were sent to bring it.”

"I...held out my partner. When things got bad. Seven said they would protect me, but-" Rodney shook his head, and said more firmly, "I'm not a fighter. I like art. Fighting is the only thing people think about here. In Life, I know, there's less...front-line responsibilities, but I'm not a scientist either. I like the natural world, and the investigative part would be okay. But those subjects were always a struggle."

He tugged on his shirt, looking down at it self-consciously.

"My apartment is back that way. B51."

“It’s not the only thing you know, it’s just the loudest thing, much like the world outside the island. Art does not scream intrusively, or at least some art does not, some art is found in the way it is not noticed by those who interact with it daily.” he smiled. “There will be room in any division for philosophy, though perhaps you chose one of the more dangerous places to voice it aloud.”

He rolled his shoulders. “I am hardly much better off than you, my expertise lies in animals, flesh and blood animals of the sort which are not even found on this island in any discernable quantity. Yet here I am and I am sure I will find plenty of other ways to contribute to the cause without getting myself into a scrap.”

Lawr gathered up his things and headed out into the corridor, waiting up for Rodney before heading along it. “I think that you under-estimate your usefulness.”

"You were forced to come here, weren't you?" Rodney asked softly. "I love working with animals, too. They can be...afraid, sometimes. But they aren't mean spirited."

Rodney took a deep breath, shower things tucked under one arm.

"Over-estimated," he said. "That's why I'm here. I know curiousity isn't a sin exactly, but I wanted to know. And now I do. And now I've promised to be a part of something that...I think must hurt a lot of people."

He did not smile, and looked even grimmer, finding his keys to open the door for Lawr.

"I'm sorry for what's happened to you. I didn't know, at the time. And I wouldn't have...no, of course, I don't regret meeting my partner. Seven has done so much for me already. They're...protective. I think they might have been some kind of criminal, before."

Rodney turned the handle. His room was sparsely decorated, and looked almost like a monk's. The bed was bare, and his clothes were neatly stacked on top of a folding chair. The dungeon, of course, did not have a closet, or an armoire. There was a table, where a set of well-used tools was arranged. There was dust on the floor. It was chilly and damp, and pneumonia would have been likely without the weapon bond.

"Maybe at some point in its history, this place would have been closer offering redemption. Ah, here,"

Rodney picked up a finely-carved angel, the texture of its skin warm-looking and almost glowing, his expression peaceful. The anatomy and cloth were also rendered with care. "I prefer to work much larger, but I could only take the small pieces. I don't think the island has any marble quarries, although I've heard rumors that there is stone with strange properties. The only trip outside of missions is the I've taken was with you. I would have liked to stop by Carrara, but it would have taken the whole day."

He entrusts Lawr with the angel, touching Lawr's hands lightly as he did. "Even if we did have internet, I doubt my website is still up. I was in the pod a long time."

“I did not get a choice in being here, no.” Lawrence said calmly. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, ill fortune and little else. But that does not absolve me of coming here, nor my duty to do what I can now that I am.” he shook his head. “It does not only hurt people, that is very narrow thinking. There are genuine forces we keep at bay, horsemen primarily who left to their own devices would chew up the world like a virus until all life was extinguished and then would fade themselves. We keep that at bay, that at least protects a great number of people.”

“And don’t worry about it either, I am all right now, I get by, things are fine.” Butch began yelling almost immediately about how he should mention him and how great he was to the other man, tell him that his own weapon was excellent and he did not regret him. “Butch is...Butch.” he said, and this seemed to please the weapon just as well as if he had sung his praises. “Perhaps Seven wanted a new life.” he said. “Perhaps that is why many people come here and they take the only path which is open to them when we should help provide paths which are good and true.”

The room reminded Lawr of his own time in the basement and he found himself narrowing his brows despite himself. “They should not have people living in such conditions.” he said with evident irritation. “It is simply not right. You have made most admirable use of what conditions foist upon you but..”

And he took the angel in his hand and admired it, the rich expression even in a creation so small almost mesmerising him. It was almost what he sought to create in his music, reaching out towards some ideal of freezing humanity in a moment, pinning it to a piece of the world it did not inhabit. Only it was evident to him that Rodney understood much better than he did how these things were manifest, the sculpture not fractured and reaching but entire and gentle. It begged to be broken and yet he could not have brought himself to do it and he was not entirely sure why.

“It is wonderful.” he said, and it did not matter that it was what other people might consider too religious or tasteless, in the small finely carved figure he saw a facet of Rodney and it rendered it priceless.

“I can certainly facilitate you getting back into creating your artwork.” he said. “If only you’d accept my offer of a place to stay, the room has quite enough space for a small studio area. I am much offended by the very idea of such works being left down here in the damp for the moisture and corruption to rot their substance.”

"It is damp," Rodney admitted. And cold. And public. "It," he wrung his hands nervously. "Is very kind of you to offer. But it seems like a lot of trouble for you to go through."

“I appreciate art.” Lawrence said matter-of-factly. “I had a great deal of it in my home before the island from many esoteric sources. I would frankly be honoured to harbour one of the island’s limited artisans as a patron.”

"Well," Rodney said, looking down still, "alright. It...it means a lot. If I get on your nerves, don't be afraid to say so."

“I sincerely doubt you will be any trouble at all. I will speak to Melvin and see about rearranging a few things to accommodate some space for you. The room is rather bare at the moment, it will be excellent to see it gain some use and life.” He returned his eyes to the small figure and looked over it again. “You continue to surprise me.” he said, handing it back as though it were a rare treasure in a museum collection.