Downstairs, Thera answered Dorian's questions with ease and genuine delight. Jessamine's, on the other hand, weren't exactly within her range of knowledge. The mordecai woman didn't really keep up with fashion, but she urged Jessamine to question the ambassador, as he actually understood all of that nonsense.
Upstairs, Declan had practically layered the room in papers in the short time he was left alone. He had a habit of locking his door in the embassy because people were rather nosy, a habit which carried into the Hartnets' home.
His formal clothing had been removed and tucked away: he was now barefoot in loose, black pajama pants, no shirt, and a black robe made of silk that he left open. At that point, even his necklaces were off and out of sight. His oddly colored hair was slightly disheveled, enough to make it clear he had been gripping at it, but not enough to look like he just woke up.
The desk had two neat piles of papers, while the floor basically had a carpet of papers with unusual designs on them. At the sound of a sharp knock, Declan looked up with wide eyes and a heaving chest. He was snapped out of his trance, much like Lily's at the piano. When he was working, he tended to become consumed by it, absent to the world around him.
The elf stood, tripping slightly on his foot which had fallen asleep. He winced, glancing down at the papers, glad that none of them had moved. Declan shook his leg awake, then unlocked the door. He opened the door carefully to not blow away any papers and flashed Lily a warm smile.
"Thank you," he said, gratefully taking the plate of food. The meal looked incredible, especially since he had forgotten that he actually was hungry. "Uh, where are my manners? Come in. Mind your step, though!"