As soon as the sun set on Kings College, Sansa said an awkward goodbye to Rod Stafford and took her leave of his flat. She stopped at a few stores, buying a new outfit so she wouldn't have to show up at the Dunsirn flat in sweatpants, and acquiring a new mobile phone as the mages had made her last one disappear and hadn't seemed to give any thought toward getting it back to her.

She called Ewan Dunsirn and left a message. "It's Sansa... I'm fine, sorry for staying out all day, I'll explain later. It's not Liam's fault." She paused. "Bye."

Sansa looked down at her mobile and chewed her upper lip before entering the next number. It was one that Gabe had made her memorize, but also promise never to call, so she felt more than a little conflicted as she pressed the number buttons. The impersonal voice that picked up the call eventually told her that the man he represented would meet with her. A place and time were given.

And so she found herself staring up at the Barbican Arts Centre around eleven, a flood of memories washing over her. With effort she started up the steps, gaining resolve with each one she took. Sansa wasn't quite sure what help she could get from the Prince of London, but it would be better than Rod's grudging assistance. Anything would be better than his cold judgement.

The front doors were unlocked, and she stepped inside, not quite expecting Roland Salisbury to be standing in the entrance waiting for her, but a little worried that he wasn't. She walked through to the art gallery, her ballet flats making little noise on the floor.