Natasha's apartment isn't much to look at. Clean and in good shape, but it's cheaper than she could afford, small even for the city, and sparsely furnished. Mostly, there's almost nothing to give it personality. No keepsakes or trinkets, not even photos. It feels more like a safe house than a home.

"That's a good question," she says, closing the door behind them and locking it. Not that it will keep anyone out if they're really determined, but the ritual is a small comfort.

"A better question might be what you're planning to do with yourself."