A portrait. The idea of one seems like an almost hilarious luxury, come so late that it nearly doesn't matter at all.

"I'd prefer it shared between you, me and whichever artist you set to the task. You have someone for that?"

Of course, quite a bit hinges on the chosen artist. John folds both hands around his cup for a moment, watching her face.

"I can only guess at where she would go. We never discussed the possibility of her having to flee somewhere beyond what was familiar to us both."