Eris had been looking forward to Friday all week. She couldn’t wait to take Bertram to Italy, a country far more romantic than France in her opinion. Eris had never really cared for Paris, Venezia was the city of love in her opinion. She’d organised everything. They would be staying in one of her family’s estates, and she was almost certain she wouldn’t run into any extended relatives. It was just be them. No war, no politics and no meddling parents. She arrived at Bertram’s flat around midday, a backpack of clothes packed for the weekend and a blindfold in her hands. She knocked a couple times on the door, unable to keep the grin off of her face.