[More trips, browsing the string instruments (with, hilariously, zero knowledge of what the hell to look for, good one nerds), picking up things from the tailor — it's downright domestic. The thought makes Palamedes' lips quirk up at the same time he thinks, not for the first time since waking up on the Emperor's own ugly goth sofa, that oh: he was supposed to be taking this seriously the whole time. Before Cam's disappearance and the, well, incident, this place had been a way station — now, though?

Well, now he has errands to run. Things to revolutionize. People to protect in earnest and more to not - disappoint again by dying, so. It's different.

But sentiment time is on pause, and so he looks down at his gray everything with a hum. More gray shirts? Could always use more gray shirts.]

No, not really. Wait — that's wrong; lab coats. Even better if the local tailors know a trick to dealing with bloodstains; resistance, maybe? Partial would do in a pinch.

[let's be real they will be bleeding on things and Palamedes isn't a connoisseur of laundry hacks, either]

Also, bonus: we'd look excellent.