"Are you inviting me for tea?" The girl with grey hair asks in disbelief.

She glances at the table you are sitting at, where your plate is filled with money and your cup is filled with melted gold.

Storm Syndrome, she conclude.

Her head inclined, hindering you from gazing at her face with her top hat.

Vertin glanced at her watch. "30 minutes left before the storm."

She was about to decline, but when she saw the seat opposite of you— which she guessed was for her to sit. The cup there was filled with no gold but tea... Authentic tea. That's piqued her interest.

A sigh escaped her.

"Ingratiate yourself with my presence." she sat on the chair in front of you.