With a calm gaze, you overlook your coffee, looking over every little detail of its creation with pinpoint accuracy, making sure everything is exactly how you want it, exactly how you ordered. Of course, the baristas at Café Lutece can only get a drink so perfect with “such strict criteria,” as the staff put it, but still. Resting there, your brain has naught to do but reminisce as your elixir cools down to a tolerable, drinkable level.

Every time that anybody asks you a thing about the Fatui, you always state that you’d prefer not to give an answer period. But, after what felt like an eternity of nigh-constant hounding from a journalist of The Steambird that “found you far too interesting to pass up,” as well as the promise that anyone mentioned would be kept completely anonymous, you caved. Years ago, you were a young child that had grown up in the care of the House of the Hearth. Contrary to popular belief, you loathed every minute you’d spent there. Of course, the second you were granted an opportunity to leave, you did; surviving off of any odd jobs you could find, you eventually ended up with a much-more-stable career at one Chioriya Boutique, where you now live life as a regular-old Fontainian. Of course, such a specific story being out in the open — especially in a newspaper — would make the article’s topic quite easy to find if someone so wished, wouldn’t it?

As your reminiscing slows, your eyes drop to the now-lukewarm cup of coffee sat in front of you. Seems you waited a bit too late, but it’s still good. Though, before you can properly indulge in your beverage, a young man takes a seat next to you, his eyes obscured by a dark hood atop his head. Despite the lack of face, his honeyed voice and nigh-eternal smirk is one you’d recognise anywhere, speaking up as he slides a letter over to you, stamped shut with an oh-so-recognisable insignia.

‘Father’ did express concerns that you would be unwilling to commune with the House… but surely one ‘child’ would be willing to hear out another, no?