To be a menace is easy. It requires minimal effort on her part given that she is particularly prone to threatening others and embracing danger. But to be a terror -- to cause terror, even -- that takes two. Particularly in a city divided. Particularly now that she has traded silver for gold. Particularly given that such fun is more enjoyable when shared with another. Ivan is as brave ( and potentially foolish ) as she is when it comes to sneaking across enemy lines, her own decision to steer clear of Capulet territory resulting in the stubborn declaration that if he wanted to hang out with someone who was actually cool, he’d need to come to her. Grace watches for the cut of his figure in passers-by, the effortless nonchalance of his stride easy to spot when everyone else seemed to walk with wary steps, shoulders tight and gazed fixed squarely on the horizon as if scared of seeing something they shouldn’t. Something they don’t want to see.

If you look close enough, iron-like red residue still lines some of the sewer gratings. Blood lingers.