[ god, biscuit. sofia was lucky that she was the perfect woman, because he wouldn't be caught dead within fifty square miles of biscuit otherwise. he considers that for a moment as he dips a dumpling further into the sauce collected at the bottom of his container, filing that away for later. ]

She's Ravkan?

[ curious. ravkan girls aren't unheard of in the sex trade in ketterdam, but most of them don't fall into the seedier brothels like heleen's. much less ones religious enough to know more than a handful of the ravkan saints. ]

Far from home. [ wheels are turning. she must be on register with the immigration office, but those papers are likely fabricated. something else to fix once he sinks his teeth into the file. ] Poor girl.

[ he heaves a sigh before he sets his container on his desk. ]

She need to get back into her apartment? I can have a court order to open it by tomorrow morning.