"Oh, we know! And you are! This is actually taken from one of your earliest designs, when you were still living with your adoptive mother. You wanted 'a big fancy house' where you could run around however you liked and anybody could come in and say hello. You actually drew parts of the façade on some notebook paper, and we lifted them with some minor adjustments. The furnishings aren't to your exact specs, but it can't all be for you; some adjustments had to be made for your soulmate's taste."

Which parts of this are adjusted for her taste, exactly??? "The, um, windows, are nice," she says, because they did look very pretty from the outside, even though they do also kind of make her feel like some kind of science experiment being observed under floodlights.

"Oh, I like the windows too!" Ari says happily. "Lots of natural light. Um, I was more thinking of - you know what, never mind. Maybe we'll talk it over later, see where our tastes are different, see how we can reconcile that. I, uh, the coffee table is - we can talk later. Is there a bathroom?"

"You no longer have the grotesque bodily functions with which you were saddled by evolution!" Johanna chirps. "There is, however, a bath upstairs."

"Great, I'm sure it'll be... very... big. Johanna, thanks so much for the tour - can you, um, let us settle in for a bit?"

"Sure thing! I'll let you lovebirds 'settle', and I'll just pop by later."

And she's gone.

Oh no she's alone with her soulmate now. He might expect her to interact with him. Terrible.

"I... wonder what the rest of the house looks like?" she says uncertainly. No, wait, if they go look at the rest of the house they might end up in a bedroom with a bed in it—oh well, too late now.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Let's see what the Celestial Bureau of Bad Taste has in store for us upstairs. -do you mind if I change, this suit is bugging the living shirt out of me."

He furrows his brow. "Um. The shirt, I mean. The - the fork. What the fork is this."

"...um," she says. "Are you... trying... to say words... other than... the words that are coming out of your mouth."

"I cordially invite you to try to swear. Uh - câlique. Batarnak. The French too? Forking here. I can't even say here?"

"...I believe you. Okay. Um. —I don't mind at all if you change," as long as she doesn't have to be in the room, wait, are there even enough walls for that, whatever it's fine she can leave the house no wait maybe that would be weird—

"Janet?" Ari says.

A woman appears directly behind him. "Yes?"

Ari turns and smiles at her, only slightly strained. "Can I get some real-person clothes? This suit isn't really my style."

"Certainly," she says blandly. "What style of real-person clothes would you like?" 

"Uh. Can I get... just... basketball shorts and a T-shirt?"

"Unfortunately, your neighborhood has placed fashion restrictions for aesthetic reasons. I can get you slacks and a polo?"

Ari makes a face. "Ugh. Fine."

There's a ding, and she hands him the clothes. "You're welcome!"

Then she disappears.

Ari starts to strip.

Chantal is just going to... look... at... the kitchen?? To. See what is in the fridge?? This is a reasonable activity, yes? Good yes okay she's over here now.

"Oh, sorry," Ari says, sounding faintly amused and equally faintly guilty.

"The fridge," she announces, "contains a truly unreasonable amount of cream soda." She's still trying not to look at him but is somewhat less panicked about it.

"Ooh!"

Ari traipses into the kitchen, shirtless and with his slacks half-buttoned, to look. "That is a pretty unreasonable amount of cream soda," he agrees. "I do like cream soda, though. Score one for the Good Place."

"I like cream soda but I do not think I like cream soda quite this much."

She starts peeking into cupboards. All the plates and so on are alarmingly fancy, and she can't seem to find any actual food items. She turns back to the fridge, because she thinks she remembers seeing an opaque drawer, only to find that the drawer in question is full of..... cans of cream soda instead of the 2L bottles packing the shelves.

"...I guess dead people don't... actually need to eat?"