(He hasn't moved from the place that thought was once placed out. He's writing on the tremors, the ley line under him still unknown to him. There seems to be no pattern to be found, but he has already made changes to accommodate it. Nothing is close to an edge anymore, including the cup of coffee that he is sipping from, center of the table.
The bell jingles and he perks up to see who it is, and the first thing that comes into his mind is I'm so glad to see you, and while his mouth remains closed, his face brightens up at the sight.)
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The bell jingles and he perks up to see who it is, and the first thing that comes into his mind is I'm so glad to see you, and while his mouth remains closed, his face brightens up at the sight.)
Welcome.