The castle's courtyards are popular, with the warm summer weather, but this one is small and almost entirely shaded by some weeping sort of tree, and so Jon's found it to be a bit of a refuge. Something about the gray flagstone bench under the tree makes him think of a corner park in London, a spot near the Archives where he used to take his lunch. Back when he thought it was just an ordinary job.

It's here that he's chosen to try to be a little selfish, to reach out and see if he can know something, anything - anything at all - about what he left behind.

So he puts his back against the tree, shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breath like a diver about leap, before letting that door to the absolute ocean of knowing open just the smallest, smallest bit.