Shen Yuan doesn't like how they're arranged, right now, anymore than he'd liked it in the gallery. None of it lets him touch Sagramore the way he wants to, to be comforting the way he wants while he listens. He picks up the wine bottle and his cup and jerks his head toward the other end of the room where there are some more comfortable chairs and couches around some shorter tables. He doesn't wait for Sagramore to follow, just puts the bottle and his cup on one of the tables and sits at one end of a couch, then opens his arms like he had when they'd napped together, except this is less an offer and more a silent demand.