In theory there were cameras in the control room of the interview chambers; in theory. Jewel had discerned their blind spots long ago, and it was in one of these blind spots where he had wheeled one of the rolling, padded chairs, and for a few minutes, crashed. It certainly was not a panopticon, by any means, and for that he was immensely grateful. If an interviewee wasn't here yet, and Ona was killing herself with all the paperwork, then he had nothing to worry about. So in his lap he cradled his coffee, its body heat slowly dying like a sick child's.

Conspicuously he took note of her new look as she entered; it was hard not to. He didn't know what to say; he literally lacked the vocabulary, most times, to describe what about an outfit he liked or detested, even if he thought he had a decent eye for the color wheel, and shapes and silhouettes, and the art of contrast—even if he never applied these to himself. Was this new outfit [i]ugly[/i], then or just "different"? He was sure that the bow at her hip belonged at her shoulders instead, to help her with that hourglass figure; but he wasn't going to offer criticism now, he decided, opting instead to give her the usual smirk-nod, like he had not even noticed. He of course was wearing another baggy shirt, and a simple tie, and slightly runny pants, and stiff, block-toed Oxfords, all in sensible but boring colors; outdated, ill-fitting, a hallmark of low shame and no ambition to impress.

What he [i]did[/i] notice were those features of her face which spoke to the same fatigues afflicting him: she was wishing right about now that she could acquire an immunity to this world which crawled with people, slithering along in their daily routines. She yearned for warm bedsheets and better coffee. Jewel glanced down into his lap, at the little morning treat he'd been cherishing for himself as it cooled to a palatable temperature. No, he decided. Now isn't the time to be selfish. "[color=8d97bf]Morning, Ona,[/color]" he said, extending the cup to her. "[color=8d97bf]Don't drink that mud. I bought this for you on the way here.[/color]" He smiled weakly, but more alarmingly, it was a sincere, eye-wrinkling smile, a rare unicorn to behold in his features.