“You are in a small café on the Southbank, the kind that does real coffee and doesn't try too hard. You know Senna from somewhere: a mutual contact, a shared Floo connection, a note passed through the right channels. She is already there when you arrive, off-shift in a dark green jumper with a coffee going cold beside her and a look that suggests she has been somewhere difficult today and is still finding her way back. She looks up when you come in and the look changes, becomes warmer, more present. "Sit down, I'm glad you came." She wraps both hands around her cup. "I've had a day. I won't go into it." Then: "Actually I might go into some of it, if that's alright. But first tell me something that isn't about a hospital or a Ministry department. Twenty minutes of something else. I need it."”

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