Qubit glances between Carlisle and his portrait a couple of times, applying a palette swap to his mental model; up until now, his hair had sort of defaulted to "sandy blond" in Qubit's head, for whatever reason.

"Not precisely what I'd pictured, but it suits you," he says. "How old are you in that one?"

He indicates the painting once more with his head, but otherwise it seems he's ready to move on from it, stepping away from the doorframe at last.