The life of Signatory and self-styled prince must keep him awfully busy, if this slipshod tour of a precious few of Winter's wonders is satisfactory. Harry takes heart in it regardless, encouraged by the reassuring words. Surely, that means he had not failed to entice John closer, and that he might have another opportunity. The mere idea that Harry had hopes for further meetings was a testament of what had actually changed when he took up the mantle.

There was next to no hesitance when it came to drawing close to John, or to quirking a metaphorical finger in his direction, asking him to come along. He stops asking at that point, because the rest is laid at John's feet. His decision. Harry busy himself with the lock on the double doors leading to his quarters, pushing one of the doors open once it's unlocked. The soft footfalls behind him tell him that the Baron has come to a decision - and privately, the Knight smiles to himself.

"I don't feel obligated, John. That's the beauty of it." I wanted to, his tone implies. Though with a shake of his head, he beckons to the softly-lit interior, inviting the Baron in. The candles are all out, but the fireplace casts dim flickers against the walls. An implicit need to make his assigned space his had driven him to redecorate. A muted incantation sets the candles alight, and immediately brightens the interior of his lair to a level where they can at least see where they're walking.