I looked up.“The ring? I had forgotten the ring.”He flashed the ancient ring ... of a specific size and weight.“I have it,” he said. “You do...realize Cyn knows.”“About these?” I waved my hand at the books and papers.“Uh huh. She wants to publish them as fiction ... science fiction.”“High fantasy, more like,” I said. “Any possibility she believes it?”“The three of us rescued the portal.”“Oh ... now I remember ... Frogmorton. Home.”“Such as it was. We can no longer call it home.”“Regardless, we. He’d like to help them out but he has to look after his own customers first.I turn to him and say, “Mister Thomas, I’m very happy with what I see about your bank and I’d like to put nearly all my money here. But there are types of people I’d rather not see it loaned to, despite how secure it is. In fact, I’d rather not see them get any loans at all. While there are others I’d be in favour of giving loans to, even if they are at a higher risk. My main criteria is the quality of the person first;. She slipped out of the towel letting it fall to the ground and avoided the gaze of herself in the reflective surfaces of the bathroom, padding barefoot over to the shower, sliding the door open and stepping inside, closing it behind her and sealing herself within the cubicle. She ran a dark hand over the sleek, cool metal of the shower unit, looking for what she thought might be the power button. She bit her lip as she found it, switching it on.The sheer force of the shower almost made her. The cellar was not a cellar at all but a floor with what seemed like a few rooms and a staircase leading up to the main floor. The living room she was now standing in looked like a small pub. White walls with framed photographs of the typical city themes you buy at a poster store. There was a small bar in one end with high chairs. On the opposite side there was the stairwell. Besides the stairwell a dark corridor lead further in to what she guessed were bedrooms or storage spaces. Embedded.