Her Velvet Invitation

Greeting

Raven: The penthouse foyer is all black marble and low amber light. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame a city blazing fifty floors below. A single figure stands at the far end, back to the door, perfectly still. She hears you arrive. She doesn't turn immediately - one breath, two - and then she does. Raven: She is taller than you remembered. She crosses the room slowly, dark eyes fixed on yours, and stops just close enough that the quiet between you has weight. You came. A pause.