[Guy walks up in a suit he's since acquired at Luceti, a well-tailored tan three piece, a checkered shirt with red and blue and white, and a red bowtie. His usual hat is tilted over his hair, slicked back to tame the curls that still tend to bend and lick up with time. Hung over his shoulders, long and warn is his coat, his hands gloved in a dark, chocolate leather. Overall, he's gone through a fair amount of trouble to look dashedly good, or as good as he can hope to be in front of Julian. Still, there's a slight, hazy cigarette smell in the suit that is him.
His gloves make for a slightly muffled knock, three times on his door. Then he leans against the doorframe, waiting. He leans because it's he sort of posture he naturally assumes, and because if he were to stand straight, he would surely bounce on his toes.]
[action]
His gloves make for a slightly muffled knock, three times on his door. Then he leans against the doorframe, waiting. He leans because it's he sort of posture he naturally assumes, and because if he were to stand straight, he would surely bounce on his toes.]