[ Drawing in a breath, Anahid refuses to think about the small shadow she saw skittering high up on the passage walls, and starts to walk. The corridor is musty and cramped, although not to the point that their movement is restricted.

After a few seconds, she says, ]

It's... still strange to me that you have so much - فضای خالی, [ empty space, for all she still doesn't know what words to use in his language, ] you can fill it with hallways that no one uses. In Bezim, a narrow townhouse is considered a status symbol of great wealth.

[ Something brushes against her foot before scampering on. Anahid doesn't scream, of course, but she does stiffen briefly and reach, unthinking, for his hand. ]

Mine has four floors and two whole guest suites.