At the shout, Martin lets himself in, taking a look around. It's clear someone is using this space to run a business out of their home, with the waiting room replacing a living room and the desks arranged like a reception area.

"Uh--- do I just---"

"You can come around the desks," adds a second voice, lighter than Jon's but with a slight hoarse quality to it. God, he even sounds hot.

"Oh--- s-sure," Martin agrees, doing just that. He enters the small kitchen to find it... quaint, and tidy, with one mismatched chair pulled up to the table. There's Jon, setting the table, while a short, older man with crisply styled black hair, round glasses, and the best ass Martin has ever seen mixes a salad together at the counter. Martin's shoulders shrink as he begins to feel like he's taking up too much space, conscious of the fact that he's the tallest and widest person in the room as much as he is a third wheel. "Hi. You must be, um. Neil."

"That's right!" Neil smiles. "Do have a seat, my friend, we're nearly ready."