The apartment is not the largest place, but pains have been taken to make it more individual, less stuck in the corpse of the last resident. There are comfortable furnishings in the main room - a deep blue couch that looks inviting, a rich red armchair, and a rug under the coffee table. A old quilt is flung over the couch, neither neat nor folded. Lamps that have been lit, though there is still a pair of candles burning in a dish. Fresher wallpaper on the walls, to set off the darker woods. A fern in a pot that seems to be torn between withering or trying to persevere, books on shelves that have no rhyme or reason to their order. A strange cabinet tucked in one corner, a circular mirror propped up on it, and a few items before it - three wrapped candies, a scrap of fabric like her dress at the Gala, and an interesting leaf.

Beyond all the efforts she's making to personalize this place, one thing might stand out more to them, though. On the walls, there is framed art, as there is in many of these places. But the contents have been exchanged - instead of paintings of places and people she does not know, they hold some sketches of things witnessed around the island.

Fragile things, one could say. The artstyle is unmistakable. Not all of them have been hung up, but it wouldn't be a miss to say that the others remain in the apartment.

The kitchen's also been repapered, and most of the dishes and the like were cleaned up, salvaged from elsewhere, and etc. No one needs matching sets, anyway. It's not the most unique place, but it's cared for, and that makes it different.

"Tea? I can try coffee as well, I've been working on bettering my version."

Jean makes it better, but she assumes that's out of practice.