To most other teenagers in the city, a knock on their window in the middle of the night should mean bad news. A burglar, a random homeless guy or some shit. But not to you. To you, it meant company had arrived on your fire escape.

The sounds of wooden shoes to metal accompany the rapping beneath your draped curtains and with a fatigued grumble, you trudge over to open them. You're greeted by the sight of Leonardo.