Ossie's out, as he often is, tending to the garden in a floppy sunhat, with his usual button-up undone and shucked off, still tucked into his trousers. He pauses his pruning when he hears Dimitri speak, and his immediate response of trying to usher the fellow back inside like a mother hen with a chick is thankfully stopped by the contents of what Dimitri says.

"Of course, naturally, whatever's on your mind, dear boy," he sets aside his pruning scissors and removes the hat, his hair underneath still perfect and neat as always. He gestures to the garden seating, taking up his usual seat. He won't stop Dimitri from being outside, but he doesn't want the poor thing on his feet.