He nods, reaching to put an arm around her for the moment as he unlocks the door, finding himself fighting the wind just a little to get the door open. They've got good timing: it's picking up. He can hear the waves crashing on the rocks, though that part never bothers him personally. The sea always speaks his language.

There's a short half-flight of stairs, and he heads up, pausing to glance back at Hana, and opens the inside door tentatively, looking around at the studio like he's never been here before. It's not huge but it's definitely spacious, high ceilings and big windows, all the spaces defined roughly by furniture and not by walls except for the bathroom. Kitchen on the right, the little nook of instruments, straight back the bed and nightstand, they all flow into each other. He feels a little self conscious of the minimalism, even though he loves it, raw brick and pipes. It's home, but it's not necessarily homey.

Home sweet home he says, gesturing around at it. The Wunderkammer, on the left, is probably the litmus test for if someone can put up with him. It's stuffed full with oddities, cool stuff and things that look normal but have good stories: his skull lyre, some interesting mourning jewelry, a fake mermaid skeleton, some treasured first edition books, a stuffed passenger pigeon he found at an estate sale that makes him sad to look at: Wren's easy to buy birthday presents for and equally easily scares people off.

He glances at her.