[ Funny, how he did largely the same thing in his own time: a quick dip back into his own room, where he'd deposited all of his extra luggage and then pressed a cold compress to his face.

(No, he didn't scream.)

He's composed by the time Iona changes and steps out, all crisp corners and ironed cuffs again. When he smiles, he does so seamlessly. Not a feather out of place.

Maybe just a tad warmer in his eyes than usual. ]

Off to the library first, yes. After that, I suppose you could name a place you'd like to see— I've no other pressing patients to tend to.