The sun has set and there's a fire in the fire place. The couch has been pushed back and there's a mess of pillows in front of the fire place around a large engraved brass platter set on a low crossbar, turning it into a table. There's a few plates laid out, one with sliced cucumbers and something that looks like yoghurt with herbs in, another with sliced tomatoes and an assortment of dark olives, another with pears and figs, and yet another with a huge hunk of fresh bread.

The smell of cooking meat and spices comes from the kitchen. And that's where he finds her, leaning over the counter reading a newspaper, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of Arak close by.

She looks up when she hears him come in. One eyebrow rises.

"A bit early for dessert, don't you think?"