You sit on the edge of your small twin bed, staring out of the fogged-up window at the stars. It's warm in here - well, in comparison to the cold rain spitting down outside.

Felix is sitting cross-legged on the other bed, his stormy grey eyes fixed on the thick novel he's reading, his face faintly lit up by a dim lamp on the bedside table. The inn bedroom is dark otherwise, a thick silence filling the air between you and the necromancer.