Connor sat on his couch, feet propped up on the table, hands folded behind his head. Eyes closed. Against the opposite wall was a huge display board tacked all over with bits of what appeared to be printer paper attacked with ball point pen and yellow highlighter. They couldn't exactly be called drawings, but there were a lot of boxes with squiggles and stick figures. Half sheets, crudely cut or torn, proclaimed various brand names. Pretty big ones, too.

At least Connor HAD been working. At one point. By the slight tilt of his head and relaxed droop of his jaw, he might have possibly fallen asleep. Which was surprising given the three extra large (and empty) cups on his desk. He snapped up the moment he heard Pen's voice, though, looking around like a child who'd just been caught red-handed. He squinted at the man in his door, startled and perplexed.

After a few moments of awkward silence, his face suddenly brightened. "Pen!" Then his face scrunched down, and he said softly to himself, "....I had a meeting with someone named Pen?" He shook his head, and brightened again. "Right! The letters guy." He got to his feet and started gesturing for him to come inside. "How could I forget that? The letter guy named Pen. Makes total sense."