The tentacles wove around Jacques haphazardly, each seeming to move of their own volition. They traced lazy lines in the air around him, followed by a telltale ethereal blue glow. Two stood unnervingly rigid in the air, one supporting a book just inches from his face, the other holding a book next to his hand that he lazily flipped through as he leaned back in his chair. His foot impatiently tapped as he read, before he looked away from his books to his desk, covered in books in a similar fashion to his home. No cases. No new material to study. A low rumble erupted from the frenchmans stomach. [color=9966CC][i]"No food either, it seems."[/i][/color] Jacques thought to himself, realizing he would need more to get him through the day than the half-apple from earlier. 

With a groan of protest from his knees, Jacques stood, a tentacle moving to maneuver his cane to his hand for support. He moved his way to the kitchenette beneath the stairs, having seen Jaklo with doughnut boxes earlier. His cane tapped a steady beat across the floor in his movement, moving in a one-two-one pattern. He hovered behind Jaklo for a moment, listening to the butt end of the conversation onto which he had walked on. Lenya, Max, and Jaklo, it seemed had the same idea as him, and a smirk fell on his face as he joined them, moving to the doughnut boxes. When he passed by Jaklo to reach for a doughnut -taking whichever his hands fell upon first -his tentacles faded from existence, blurring away into a mist of arcane energies. His tattoos faded to black, and he suddenly was standing straighter, no longer feeling his muscles strain. 

The French morphologist glanced briefly at the book in Lenya's hands, before giving a brief grunt of approval. His eyes drank in detail from the pages, a reflex of sorts by that point. He hadn't caught much of the conversation, and frankly hadn't cared enough to listen too deeply. [color=9966CC][i]"Something something, Lenya was showing something to Max, something something boring hunters, something something weather."[/i][/color] Jacques mentally reviewed what he had heard, before a smirk fell across his face. [i][color=9966CC]"Ah, small talk. How adorably mundane."[/color][/i] He thought as he leaned back against a wall, good hand propped between his head and the wall, robotic hand pointing straight at the ground with cane still in hand. 

[color=9966CC]"Interesting read. Any chance I could borrow it sometime?"[/color] Baron inquired in his vaguely accented voice. Though the difference in speech pattern was quite distinctive, it fell on a blurred line. Not quite French, but not quite anything else either. The effect of time travelling throughout two centuries had an interesting effect on speech patterns, as it would happen. He himself was still adjusting to the change in accent -well, change in everything. Even his body had changed with the times, as evidenced by the sleek metallic protrusion from his shoulder. Everything about the new time he had been shunted into was not easy to acclimate to, and even after more than a year he was still caught off guard by the most mundane of experiences to those used to the modern day. [color=9966CC][i]"Still, not all of the new world is bad."[/i][/color] He mused internally, flexing the robotic arm. He had to admit, even this rudimentary tool was better than the utter lack of function he had in years past.