Cullen is a man whose ideas of creature comforts in his quarters lie along the lines of 'maybe some shortbread? but not too much' and 'the presence of a window might help prevent screaming nightmares and attacks of claustrophobia' and 'this personally meaningful token from my brother must stay hidden at all times lest someone think I'm not doing things right' and 'a practice dummy with throwing knives all through its head and torso really ties the room together.'

Then there are the vines on the walls. And the tree growing out of the walls.

He's gone a little pink when he sits the rest of the way up, pulling away. "Fine," he echoes.