In the full minute it takes for Devin to make up his mind about whether to knock, he's treated to the muted sound of wind chimes clinking melodically against each other in the gentle summer breeze, and the hum of the radio. The latter clicks off after he knocks, and it is only the space of a few more moments until footfalls can be heard on the opposite side of the door. The latch turns, and the Fool opens the door wearing a look of polite curiosity that quickly transforms itself into surprise when he sees who his guest is.

"Devin," he starts, the corners of his mouth quirking into an uncertain smile that nevertheless manages to brighten his amber eyes. (Is he blushing, or still a bit flush from the bath? His braided hair is damp enough for it to be plausible.) A moment later and he seems to remember that he's blocking the door, and so takes a step back so that he can gesture Devin in with one hand. "Please, come in."

At his tiny work station near the window, his carving tools have been laid out for today's commission, and a few beginning cuts have been made into a block of wood. A cup of tea is steaming nearby; it seems he's just getting started for the day.