Tolpen's Dreamwidth

The journey to the Soft-Eyed Mycologist's lodgings leads from the University across the river, and then twists into the very streets of the Bazaar. Into the parts where back alleys have their own back alleys, where the signs are more discreet, displaying windows dusty or shuttered and where most Londoners realize that they should have brought a big yarn of twine.
The Mycologist, hand in hand with the Chimeric Professor, walks these mews with the assurance of someone, who is absolutely certain where they are going, and fully expect the streets to collaborate with that premise. Which is half of the trick of navigating around these parts. The other half of the trick is to tire the streets out and let them give up first. Third half of the trick is not to show any sign of fear and to not approach from behind. Applicable as much to the Bazaar as it is to horses.

The streets are a rag-tag gathering of various houses the unifying features of which is rusty bricks and heavy doors. The Mycologist ends up leading the Professor to a house which was notably rather nondescript, save for where a second story would be and turn into an attic, there was a great deal of glass - a dome of a greenhouse. The growth was too thick, however, to see further in, not to mention that the unflattering angle made the glass reflect light and made observations all the more difficult for it.
The brass plaque on the door is warm to touch. It doesn't provide a name, but it promises expertise consultations with legal and security matters. A smaller plaque, slightly newer, kindly asks all WaDMoF submission to be left in the mail and submissions exceeding in volume the capacity of the mail slot to be sent to the Benthic Department of Subterranean Mycology (Formerly Benthic Department of Cryptomycology), laboratory XI.
An unhelpful graffiti adds that for office hours of this place one ought to contact Madame Shoshana.

The heavy door gives way to a small entry room which is dark and barren except for a deserted coat hanger. Ignoring both door leading further in, the Mycologist makes his way up the narrow and creaking staircase without as much as his footstep making a sound.
On the first landing he gives the first door on his left a hefty kick; "There is a trick to it, the frame has sagged," he explains.
Beyond the door is a hoard. Well, it is a living room, but it is buried under, well, everything. Mostly books and papers, but there are also pretty teacups (there is a handful that comes in pair, but most doesn't), stray pieces of bones and glim and even a few chunks of amber at this point permanently fused with the table. And of course the mushroom pots. Every horizontal surface has at least one on it. es, that includes the sofa and the armchair.

"Make thyself comfortable wherever. If it looks like a religious text, please move it not."
There is a hearth. Despite the false summer, it has a fire going on. And in spite of that, the house feels... quite chilly, actually.
The Mycologist throws his gloves and jacket over a beautiful and severely overgrown russula, and adds some coal to the fire. The room is nto warmer for it, but at least it gets the kettle going.
"While the water heats up... Ask, and I promise to answer truthfully."

Person: The Soft-Eyed Mycologist
Alias: Advocate in Apocyan, Kitty, Locksmith
Referred to as: He/him/his
Age: Early 40's (?)
Species: Human (Speculated cat?)
Identifying features: Of average human weight and height. Dark skin. Soft face and eyes, prominent nose. Dark hair, long, straight (often in loose queue). Notably accessorized with large piercings, dominantly (but not exclusively) in ears, clothed in light teal or blue. Never seen without his large golden pince-nez.
Residency: In the side-streets of the Bazaar. It is the only barrister's office that has a greenhouse in the second story.
Most often encountered at (in descending order of likelihood): The Medusa's Head, Benthic College (Department of Cryptobotany and Subterran Mycology), his office (see above), any religious congregation.
What a Londoner has probably heard: This man has been the editor of Wild and Domesticated Mushrooms of London for the past eight years and is presumed responsible for the newer editions of this book having double the page count of the original. This name might pop up if you ask for a locksmith in Medusa's Head.