"Ah'm," the Irishman started, a sense of disappointment coming through in his voice. "Not, exactly sure what Ah was expecting."
Once they officially arrived, Ruarc dismounted and walked up to the front door. Drawing a key from his pocket he unlocked the door and swung it open. Sure enough, the inside looked cramped and run down. More disappointed in how different his expectations were from reality than having to stay in the place. Upon stepping inside though, his eyes immediately felt dry, and he reached up to rub them. When he reopened his eyes, the room he was a far cry from what he had initially seen. What he saw was a wonderfully rustic cottage, completely out of place in the heart of a six hundred year old city. The room had rough cut stone cobble walls, exposed timber ceiling, and oak plank flooring with a rich brown finish; off to the side there was even a hearth.
"A glamour?" Ruarc pondered as he began to walk around the living room. As he pass a hand along the wooden frame of the couch in the center of the room he noticed the kitchen on the other side of a stone topped island. White paneled walls covered the walls along with matching cabinets. A gas range punctuated the counter, and on the far wall was an honest to goodness masonry oven. On the counter top something caught his eye. Picking it up, it was a note addressed to him.
Nodding to himself, the situation made more sense to Ruarc. Setting the note back on to the counter, he turned and went to check out what appeared to be a closet. As he guessed, the door led to a staircase leading upward. Checking it out, the upstairs consisted of a study with a large hard wood desk along with several respectable bookshelves filled with a plethora of magical texts, and the last room was the bedroom. While it was a lovely room, with a large queen bed with oak frames and a wonderfully comfy looking quilt, a large rug over top of more oak flooring, and a small reading nook with a rocking chair and end table; there was a slight issue in that there were no more floors to the safehouse, and thus only the one bedroom and bed. It was at this point that he realized the note, and that there must have been a misunderstanding when DuMonde passed along the news that he and Jane were taking a trip to France.Dear Mr. Flynn,
I was quite pleased when Miss DuMonde informed me that you had accepted her offer to utilize some of our organization's assets. As a show of good faith from us to you, and as a reward for the work you have put into Safeholme, I arranged for this safehouse to be styled in a way that might help you feel more at home. I hope it is to your liking.
I sincerely hope this is a sign of an improved working relation between the Occultis Magica and our favorite Druid.