[His gait is casual, just like everything else about him, as he saunters into Styx, the jingle of the bell announcing his entrance. Ardyn removes his hat, clasped in the fingers of his right hand, and offers Aranea a smile. His hair is as windswept as ever, and it accentuates the very tongue-in-cheek nature of his words.]

I see that today is particularly busy for you.

[But it's less of a jab at the notion of a slow day than it is a passing observation and nothing more. He moves to the gestured sofas, placing his fedora down on the cushion next to where he chooses to sit. Glancing around, it's difficult not to spot the small art gallery across from the reception desk; he finds it curious, but not surprising. He had read the medieval gothic lettering etched onto the glass panes outside. It had said Gallery, as well, and this was apparently why.]

But I'll be glad to monopolize your time for today. More time to pour over your sketches, am I right? Appreciate your artistic skill.