When he arrives, he carries a plate with a couple of slices of toast — still warm. In his other hand is a steaming mug of coffee, for himself. All told, it means that it's a good thing she's left the door open, because knocking would take some doing.

This is just an office at Riftwatch, the sunlight bright through the windows. This is no snowy mountainside; this is no Venatori fortress; and he looks exactly the same as the day before, years and years of weariness and ill-use fallen away in the waking world.

"More work in exchange for bringing you breakfast," he says, laying down the plate near her and taking a seat, "doesn't seem like an equal trade to me."