Dorian stands in front of the painting, staring at it. He wears a long felted wool coat, midnight blue and collarless and perfectly tailored to fit him with polished buttons that might be wood or bone shaped like stars so he matches the painting. The coat has coordinating trousers but he’s barefoot. He turns as the bookshelf closes behind Zachary. “You’re here,” Dorian says, and it sounds more like an observation about the place in general than Zachary appearing out of a bookshelf in particular.