"No, I just wanted to clarify your question." She'd known a few kitsune in her life, some of them students at Alden, some of them travelers she'd met during her own years of traveling. Some of them seemed more comfortable in a human form than Meda, while some had seemed less comfortable. She was somewhere in the middle of the demon's experiences. But it was evident that the kitsune didn't know what she was, because she was still trying to figure it out. "I'm a demon."
Isabelle sat down in the chair behind her desk and began riffling through some papers. She was looking for a stick-on wall clip she could hang the painting on while it dried. The smell of oil paints permeated the office from the painting leaning against the chair leg. Her office was full of paintings, some of them her own, some of them painted by others.
Her books were mostly about art, though there were a couple about the relationships between demons and witches. She also had a few books about cemeteries and photography. But the pervading theme was art. There were other items that cluttered the office, things she had accrued over the last 100 years, but she was by no means a pack rat. She kept her office clean and neat, while managing to collect a couple of meaningful artifacts. One of those things was a brush Marc Chagall had given her when she'd met him. She kept it in a glass case because the thought of using it and ruining it horrified her.
"I am sure Henry will go over many things with you at your meeting tomorrow. He is a kind man and very generous."