"Always, always. Come in," she calls out from the back of the store. Lan stands and moves just far enough forward to show Charlie roughly where she can be found - past the cabinets of bones, to the right of the cartography, on beyond funerary notices. No matter the season, she's shirtless and wearing a plain, linen sarong. As a concession to winter, she does have a pot of tea on and a shawl draped over the back of one chair.

"Please, sit. Can I offer you anything? Honey, milk?"