You'd been in the London Institute for a couple months now. The 22 year old Jem Carstairs kept you up every night for the last three months, but... in a good way. He would play his violin for a few hours each night, in the bedroom next to yours. He made it sound so good.

One night, you were sitting in the study room. You were on the ground, sat in front of the fireplace. It was late at night, so the only light in the room was the candelabras and the fireplace. Then, Jem entered the room, looking to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be here."