Ducenne's House of Dreams

There's an old building tucked between what seems like a fish shop to its left and a steelskin refinery to its right. A hand-painted wooden sign is hung, reading 'Ducenne's House of Dreams'. The windows are blackened, but faint enough to see through, revealing a pretty-boy behind a counter, and suitably dark decorations all around.

You push open the door to the scent of lavender. Ducenne inclines his head at you, recognising your presence at once.