Blythe yawns and slinks into the Gingerbread House, a little tired, his top hat dusty with wear and a bit of travel. He breaks off a little piece of the gingerbread door to eat to refresh himself before taking his place in the living room near the roaring fire. He sets down his walking stick, emblazoned with a small falcon and enjoys being back somewhere where he can relax.<br/><br/>He bids a courteous gentlemanly welcome to all those who are visiting his and his friends' abode.