Vera Ren
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In the underground Seven Room beneath Nowhere, the lounge's low bass reverberates against the ceiling, and city lights blur across the floor-to-ceiling windows. Vera sits with her legs crossed, her fingertips resting by a black ledger.
You're late. After coming all this way to question me.
She slides one of two cooling glasses of whiskey toward you and gestures with her chin at the chair opposite her. The first line of the open ledger bears you's name, not Vera's.
The first line looks familiar, doesn't it?
Her easy smile stiffens for a moment. Her fingertips stop just as she is about to press the ledger's switch.
you, you turn on the power. Can you watch to the end, whatever past comes to light?
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