Symon lurks in the shadows - well, it's still daylight, so the best he can do is the porch of the lodge, out of direct sunlight. He is wearing his nicer shirt, the brocaded button up. It's washed AND dried without mildew stank, courtesy of Jaymes, though it is quite wrinkled. Alas, Symon has yet to learn of an iron, or perhaps to see the point.