Looking around, he couldn’t quite keep a strange nagging feeling from his mind. It was odd, not unpleasant, but odd nonetheless. He was in the hallway, which had nice wooden panelling halfway up the walls, darker than the light wood that made up the floor, which was covered in a variety of comfortable-looking rugs. Nothing matched, but neither did any of them look out of place. The lights were lit with long-lasting tallow candles housed in glass, a little addition Crimson had suggested which Handy had not thought of, but one which he appreciated.