John Johanna is sitting in her rooms upstairs, her nose, as usual, in a book. She's still feeling rather awkward about this whole thing -- and has discovered a new distaste for corsets -- but would certainly be willing to talk to anyone.
*John is, for lack of a better thing to do, practising his sword drill in a fairly large empty room. He's currently leaning against a wall, eyeing the sword opposite him rather balefully in an attempt to regain his breath*
John is, apparently, writing a letter. It's to Jamie, incidentally, but nothing terribly important. Just the general details on how life is going, how Willie's doing, that sort of thing. He is free to be bothered, of course.