A feeling swept over Philip, as his sense of smell was awakened to the first stirring prick of the wine's heady bouquet, the echo of something ancient and forgotten that wrenched an ache of familiarity not unlike nostalgia. Yet, it was more than just the aroma of a drink well made, but rather its presence in the combination of another unknown element: perhaps his only companion in the room, or the music which had stopped but nevertheless infused the expanse, or the sight of the glittering coastline from the window with its barely visible island lost amidst the distant water. Philip shook his head, trying to rid himself of the strange and therefore unpleasant sensation.
"That's right," he said, latching on to a falsely pleasant tone, but he found its merry lilt catching that he soon believed his own pretense enough to instantly feel better. "I'm only a couple floors down, though it's nothing as fancy as all this. But you know, I've never really needed extravagant, just four walls and enough heat to keep my toes and fingers from freezing. In fact, I'm sure some would say Pax is a little too grand for the likes of me." He flashed a quick, conspiratorial grin toward Steven, as though they had been long time friends who shared a good deal of secret understandings. But once again something jostled in the back of his mind, the shift of something lying deeper below the surface of all his other thoughts. "You know, I can't exactly say why I picked this place. It's like something about it called out to me. Say, have you ever had a feeling like that?"