"Yes." There's no point in even attempting to hide it. She's barely decent (at least by her standards), hair in disarray, and she's knocking on his door in the wee hours. Of course something's wrong.

Greta draws the shawl a bit tighter around her shoulders. "I... I need a favor." Before she can lose her nerve, she barrels onward: "I need you to listen to my song, and--and tell me how it... would have ended. If the Rift hadn't taken me."

It's a tall order. She knows he prefers to respect other's privacy. And goodness knows what this will mean for her - will he hear everything, or just tune in to the part that matters?

If he's willing, then she'll just have to risk it.

"Can you do that?" she asks, shifting restlessly. "Please?"