There's a muffled yelp and a thump from the other side of the door in response to her knock, and Dinadan's father is the one who answers the door.
"Come in, Petra," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Dinadan's just rediscovering why surrounding himself with sheets of paper is a bad idea."
"Dad," Dinadan complained, coming into the entryway with a damp dishtowel pressed up against his elbow. "Hi, Petra."
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