In Jean's world, there is a district famous for its beautiful flowers, spiced tea and irreproachable hospitality. Pity some powerful people there must hate his guts at this point. Still, something tells him this can't be the same place. Too many marigolds and not enough lilies.

Feeling comfortable and welcomed by the yellow and orange sea of petals, he decides that nobody is going to try to murder him this time, probably, and approaches the wooden ottoman. His mother taught him manners though, so he waits for an invitation before sitting down and trying the biscuits.

"Hello?" he asks instead, looking around for any sights of life, kind of itching for a cigarette.