“Good. Maybe we can do something for the pain.” She entered the building. Handy raised an eyebrow, gave a quick look over his shoulder, and followed her in. Within was a medium-sized townhouse, though you would not know it to see it from the outside. She led him into the common area where there was a fire already burning and an elderly griffon was stirring a pot of something above it. She hummed some homely tune as the room was thrown in deep oranges and reds and stark shadows, the light of the morning not yet piercing the windows, the smell of vegetable soup rising from her pot. She looked up in surprise, and her face broke into a wide smile at the sight of Shortbeak.