Mira finds the staircase in thirty seconds flat because, of course, it's marked in her guidebook — "Rampart Access, €3, splendid views, no mopeds." The splendid views are currently occupied by one moped and one entirely unbothered teenager. They sprint along the battlements, the Adriatic glittering mockingly below, Alex's camera swinging like a pendulum and catching what will later prove to be an excellent photograph of a lizard. The Moped Kid rides ahead at barely above idle, as if enjoying a leisurely Sunday loop of thirteenth-century masonry. He glances back and smirks. Mira, guidebook still somehow tucked under one arm, is actually reading. "The walls are two kilometres long," she reports, not entirely helpfully. The moped slows at a tower junction where the path splits — one route dipping toward the mountain gate, another looping back toward the town below. The kid tilts his head, as if deciding which inconvenience to offer them next.