Spend too long in those ghosts, and you'd think every Rifter's home is nothing but violence and bloodshed.

[ So says the woman who lives in a gothic horror novel but whatever. She can't have that out, clearly. ]

To some matters, I am moving my room to one alone so I do not bother anyone else with any of my duties late at night. If you are looking to contact me anything, I will be there. [ Refugees don't get to sleep, so why should she? ]

Which, a house is not a home without at least some company. To that, if you're interested in a meal - I will be making enough for any company every Friday evening, at the evening bell. There will be no meat, but you will not go hungry otherwise - seems more than one of you could do with something other than just bread and salt. Consider it a break from the usual Inquisition fair, if nothing else. You need not know me particularly, and I only ask you arrive with clean hands, face and manners and be happy to accept my hospitality.

[ A pause, that said, what else. ] - and leave your shoes at the door. I don't want dirt from who knows where traipsed into my new rooms.