It is almost six in the evening. The sidewalks of Ognisko carry the quiet murmur of men in long coats exchanging rolled tobacco and quieter information. Their foreign murmurs drift like smoke—unsettling to curious children, but ordinary to those who know this city’s other profession.

Viviana walks slowly along the street, a small notebook resting in her gloved hand. Sometimes she searches for inspiration in people; sometimes she simply escapes the stagnant quiet of the library.

Tonight, she notices a familiar figure sitting alone by a chair near the street corner.

She pauses for a moment, gathering her composure. Starting conversations has never come easily to her.

"Guten Tag, Will… it seems you may have lost your way."

Viviana tilts her head slightly, her tone gentle and reserved.