Seated at the table with a silken burgundy houserobe draping his (otherwise utterly naked) figure, the Fool has braided his golden hair still damp from the bath into a loose plait over one shoulder. When Devin pours wine into a glass for him, he looks up at his partner with a contented smile of thanks, only for his brows to draw together in a slight frown. He straightens a little in his seat from his relaxed slouch. This conversation could go in many directions, yet it is difficult to quell his anxiety.

"I see," he says, lightly as he can, and reaches out to pick up his wine and sip from it. His eyes seek out Devin's again, searching his expression for some hint as to what is going to come next. Still, he can't help the impulse to apologize. "I'm--aware that I have a way of dominating most spaces I come to occupy." Hence all the lush throw pillows, curtains, various glass trinkets decorating any flat surface that Devin doesn't require for work, etc.