Sindre teleported them straight to the front yard of his home, which was a little one floor house that looked as old as the French Revolution, and it was still close enough to the sea where the air faintly smelled of saltwater. It was a tidy front yard, freshly mowed and the bushes were all well trimmed - Sindre had hired a gardener to come and take care of that, because all he knew about plants was that if he even looked at them funny, they died. He didn't take his hand out of hers when he led her up the stairs of the front porch to the door, and opened the door. "Sorry about the mess of cloth, I was in the middle of a project when I saw your message."
Indeed, the living room was a bit messy - though in FAR better condition than he found it - with scraps of fabric and his dress form in the center of it. He was working on a patchwork skirt of various older fabrics of paisley, velvet, and bright colored cotton. It was in a warm gold and red and orange scheme, and he had an amber necklace to go with it. "Just move the basket of sequins aside if you want to sit in the chair, I'll get something for us to drink. Do you want some salad? I have the bagged kind."