A languid voice may interrupt his perusal of the stone, which is sitting there continuing to be rather stone-like, albeit with a certain googlyness to it. "That is Jagaimo."

He sees, should he look, a tall, slim woman with extremely long black hair draped around her relaxing on one of the stuffed chairs. She is wreathed in smoke from her long pipe, most of it drifting out of the open window next to her as she exhales, looking him over as curiously as he is the rock.

She taps her pipe lightly against the ashtray she's procured, and tamps some more tobacco of some variety into the tiny bowl with her thumb, watching him side-long from the corner of her eyes.

Lighting the pipe again, she smiles suddenly, brilliantly. "Isn't it adorable?"