Jack is sitting at a table in one of the otherwise-empty shops in the middle of the trailer, a pile of fabric and some tracing paper laid out in front of him, as well as a round pincushion full of needles and pins. He looks up at the sound of someone coming down the narrow hall towards him.

"Yes? Yes, it's me, back here," he calls without getting up. The door to his little shop is propped open, so his voice carries.

The shop itself is small, with a bunch of empty shelves and a counter, and the aforementioned table. Not much to work with, but Jack isn't intending to sell things, so he doesn't need a lot of display area.