It's a two-store library, the size of the bedrooms he has already seen with a bay window that works as a reading nook and that overlooks a small private garden. All shelves are against the walls, but they cover all the available wall space. The rest of the furniture is relegated to the center of the room. There is a spiral staircase to one side, leading to the second floor.

Oo. He takes a detour to climb the staircase, wondering if there's another one of those windows up on the second floor. He pauses before he goes too far up, remembering that he'd had a reason for coming in here. He leans over the railing to peer down at Temple. "Hey, are you busy?" He asks. 

There is another one, yes. From that angle he can see the door to another room, and through a window in that door what looks like Sawney.

"I am not. Do you need book recommendations?"

Oh, the other painter! 

"...I was going to ask about some more magic lessons, but, uh. What's through that door up there?"

"Ah, Sawney uses it as an art room. Knock if you want to come in..."

Decisions, decisions! 

"Is he up for company? He has the door closed, though I suppose that could just be to keep any smells from getting into the library." 

"You can knock. There are wards against smells and paint itself, but he keeps the door close out of habit."

"Okay," he nods, "I do still wanna ask about that, but give me a bit?" He waves, heading up to the door to the art room. He knocks, as directed. 

"Come in." Says two voices. Topher is inside as well, reading a book. Sawney is not currently painting, but instead cleaning a brush.The room is impeccable, but the faint smell of acrylic can be felt, and there are several drawings on a table.

"Hello, relative."

"Afternoon, cousins!" He greets with a laugh. He looks over at the table curiously, "It came up when we were eating that you're an artist?" 

"Trying to be."

"He is a natural."

"Can I see?" 

Grin. "Of course. I am still working on most of these."

The drawings include things like Topher's face, a naked young man who might be Franklyn, a surprisingly colorful snail, a very detailed picture of a branch side by side a very stylized picture of what is likely a branch.

"Oh, these are great!" He looks them over delightedly, before glancing back at Sawney, "I wish I'd thought to bring some smaller paintings. The sketchbook I'm using right now is in my bag, though, if you want to see at some point?" 

Grin. "Thank you and I would love to see them. If you want, you can use the materials here." He waves at the room.

"Do not include me among the materials to be used."

"Thanks! I'm not much into body art, don't worry," he assures Topher. "Actually, since I'm here anyway, can I use some paper and pencils? There's a few things I've been meaning to get out of my head all day." 

"Maybe you could use him as a muse, and of course." 

Sawney puts the brush he was cleaning away, on a mug with other cleaned brushes all neatly organized. And pulling out a drawer with more neat rolls, this times pencils. Papers are on a (also neatly stacked) pile over there.

He gives Topher an assessing look, and then a smile, "Maybe. I like... catching people in motion. In action, sometimes, or just doing something that takes their whole attention. Capturing emotion, and passion." He shrugs, taking a few papers from the pile and setting them on the table in front of him. He leans over it, pencil in hand, and starts sketching. He doesn't stick to one paper at a time, switching from one to the next as he recalls another detail. It quickly becomes clear that he has an excellent visual memory, a good eye, and a lot of practice at this. The images he's drawing come into focus gradually, all of them quite clear and growing more detailed as he goes on. 

Temple, caught in the middle of an explanation, face bright with happiness while Felix watches with a fond smile. A close up of Alex's face in shadow, expression devastating in how relieved it is, face wet with tears. The portal from the first warehouse, the trucks and room around it more outlines than anything, all attention and detail on the hole in reality, and the room on the other side. Franklyn in the water, as seen from above the surface, Jamie's reflection superimposed over his body. 

He stops switching so much once all of the sketches are recognisable, focusing on one image at a time until he's mostly satisfied. He has a lot of trouble with the last one, coming back to it again and again, trying to make the water and reflections work right, erasing and redrawing. Eventually he gives up with a sigh, glancing up and blinking around the room. 

(Topher went back to reading.)

Sawney is watching intently and grinning. "You're extremely good."

He grins back, blushing just a little bit, "Thanks! I can't quite get this one right, but man, water is hard." He shrugs, pulling another sheet over and starting an idle sketch of a moondog. "So, you paint, and I guess you must draw, but do you do any other kinds?" 

"Water is the hardest. And you mean art? I have tried a bit of everything, sculpting was sufficiently complicated to decide to pick it up later once I have a better grasp of two dimension. I am a terrible musician."