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Faramir has thus far managed to steer clear of any mansion related drama and hijinks, spending his time in books instead and out of doors if he can help it. But now it is January and the weather is quite frankly a bit miserable. Cold is no longer one of his favorite things after the Black Breath. So for now he has found a comfortable seat in the library where he has retired with a ancient looking book of philosophy, curled up with his legs tucked underneath him rather childishly. There is a window close by and every so often he glances out of it for a moment or two. The whole set up reminds him of being a child in the library of Minas Tirith, hiding himself away from weapons training for a few hours of slaying dragons and rescuing Elven princesses instead.