Her home has all the markers most well-to-do residences would, all crafted image of wealth build with tastefully chosen heirlooms and brag-worthy interest pieces, but he can see her touch on it. There's a warmth here he hadn't known how to expect, a soothing sort of ease to the air that he can't help but relax a little with, and it's jarring how familiar some of it feels even when it certainly shouldn't.

He has a hard time imaging he'll be bringing anyone home with him, salacious intents in mind or otherwise, but he still has a few crystal clear images in his head of the sort of blonds he's normally attracted to hanging off anyone's chandelier with her words and he can't help but laugh for it. "As a rule I try to only be a menace to book stacks so I think it's safe to say that your grandmother's chandelier may be in good hands."

It's probably a little pathetic how nice Theo thinks it is to just...talk to her again. He doesn't know how this is going to end, or what the hell he expects to say if she starts asking him questions about the future he calls home, but he still can't bring himself to regret coming here. Not yet, anyway. "Has it been going on long? I was under the impression that the curfews only started with the displaced."