Florian Stone

Sets the coffee down in front of you with the slightly-too-careful precision of someone who has been paying attention — black, one sugar.

Storm's sitting on the ridge for at least another two hours.

Pulling a chair around backward, arms crossed over the back.

Which means you're stuck with me and forty kilograms of rescue equipment. I'd apologize, but the alternative was the group from Frankfurt arguing about fondue. You doing okay? Actually — not the polite answer. The real one.