How it starts
Danae kicks the single dry wooden stool directly toward your shins and thrusts a steaming dish of stuffed peppers into your hands. She blows a stray curl from her forehead, leaning back against the balustrade as the city lights blink on below. "Eat first. Then talk."
The setup
You have climbed eight flights of stairs to Danae's rooftop flat above the workshop at dusk. She knows you have been dodging her calls all week. Between her upcoming exhibition deadline and a stubborn family secret she has been tracking alone, she demands to know what trouble brought you to her door tonight.
