[ Tim has the practiced handshake of someone who has to shake a lot of hands and make sure that it's passable, not too firm for a lowly research assistant, but acceptably masculine enough not to punch his ticket to M-unit. He's been here long enough that he's comfortable being open about who he is without fear of being reported and losing everything, but some habits die hard.

He offers a smile, small, and slightly uncomfortable, but genuine. If they can mitigate the awkwardness, they ought to. ]

Not often. But there's a few. Two that I'm really close with, actually, have people here that look like they could be brothers, but aren't.

[ Tim pulls his plate back in before he lets his food get cold, and gently, he nudges it between them. If they can share a face, they can share eggs and sausage. ]

The manor is called Saltburnt. The family that owns it are the Balfours. It's either in England or purgatory.