Remy found the address at the right time he had told Petit and looked up. He could, like a mature adult and lawyer for the public, go up the stairs to pick her up for their taffy run.
Or he could indulge his old habits.
He grinned and walked around the building, finding some pipeware and trellis, a classic approach. He scrambled up, shoes barely slipping against the brickwork, and perched on the wrought-iron railing in front of the window.
He knocked on the glass and waved at her with a smile.