The shop was to the customer, rather simple. A square room with the walls covered by watches of all size and intention. Some had several more indicators than common, and most of them seemed to be for cooking, with some having oven, boiling, fried and done written on the small brass points. Others were tall worksmanship of wood and copper with a loud bell hitting at every hour. The colour of the walls were impossible to make out, so thick was the layer of clockwork covering the interior. Directly from the entrance, there was a small counter, and behind it a doorway, seemingly leading into two hallways that one could assume lead to the actuall workshop. In the middle of the square a small table framed with glass walls and ceilings lay the more expensive work on soft, crimson pillows.<br/><br/>Jimmie gave Lynn a hard stare whom had made a courtisied attempt at greeting the customer, but decided to throw he stare at the woodwork of the counter. The clockworker turned on his heel with a smile. "Wellcome, good sir, to Time Tells. Its not grand, but I assure you, you will find no better handy work to<i>Tell Time</i>in all of London", he gave away a hearty chuckle at his own pun, offered the man a seat and sat down himself on the otherside of the counter, only to shoo away Lynn.<br/><br/>"She's a bit...slow", he said watching the girl disapear into the hallway beyond, "My niece, doesn't know daft much, but she does what she is told. But that is of no interest to you."<br/>Jimmie slapped his hands together and leaned on the counter; "So tell me, friend, how can an old clock maker help out a friend? How do you intend to spend your time here in London?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>