The Printing Press occupied a small squat building, with large windows and a sign on the front printed by the press itself, presumably imbued with some arcane principles or other. The front, as far as Caroline remembered anyway, was a warmly lit room mostly occupied by a long counter, and a few copies of things the press had produced recently, at their command or otherwise. Mostly it had been books the last time she checked.
She hadn't been out to the front room for nearly a week, however. A friend of hers had been evicted from their workshop, and as a result had been forced to abandon the large robot they were in the middle of building, so they'd dropped it off for Caroline on a hunch that she'd enjoy finishing it. And, as expected, they were entirely correct. She was mainly aware of the passage of time by the need to light a candle every so often; also, roughly every twenty-four hours Brent would roll a couple oranges through the door to keep her sustained. She hummed tunelessly while she worked, loud enough to carry through the entire shop.
She was vaguely aware that Brent had gone out at some point, and hadn't yet heard the bell ring to indicate the front door opening, so presumably Brent had not returned. This was something of a worry, since there was no one around to man the desk, and were a customer to arrive she would have to handle it herself. But she got the impression things hadn't been very busy lately, based on the number of bell rings she'd been hearing as she worked, so she wasn't too concerned.
