The dead are rising. There's something foul in the city. Some madness is slipping among them. Nadine hasn't been spared. She hasn't missed the two or three nightshade blooms popping up amongst the other flowers in her window box garden over the last two days. Or that she hasn't been making what she'd consider the best of decisions of late.

But as far as everything happening, some impulse shopping and snide comments aren't that bad. And maybe she's had a few more glasses of wine than she normally does, but why not? The world's going crazy, again, and there's a laundry list of things for her to be worried about. She can sit in the kitchen in her shift and have wine. And a joint. What else is she going to do, pace and fret about Julie? There's nothing she can do.

But the silence in the apartment is grating on her, and that little voice is urging her to do something about it. Why not? She's lonely and unsettled and she wants to feel better. It's a simple message she sends Jaskier, hastily scrawled on the tabletop with condensation from her glass.

"Come over?"