Chapter 45: New Management Had Entered the Chat

Dove had met Garran for less than an hour and already wanted him transferred to a store that sold exclusively angry bees. She kept that preference private while pointing out that Ash had spent several days asking the same supplier question without getting an answer.

"Then you understand why it still needs answering," Garran said. He stood beyond her counter, hands folded behind his back, while the last Terminal crates passed toward the service bay.

"I understand why you’d like one. Those are different things. You can inspect the actual goods like Kael does."

He asked whether she considered herself exempt from the rules because Thorne liked standing beside her. The panther’s ears angled back, but Dove answered before he could take the conversation somewhere with more teeth.

"No. I consider myself covered by the instruction you signed ten minutes ago. Shall I get your copy, or did the ink become difficult on the walk over?"

Garran looked toward the duty table instead of answering. Dove did not mistake leaving for agreement. She wrote the exchange beneath the day’s figures, stored her merchandise, and made sure her paper bag contained Ash’s duplicate before closing.

The truck left before dusk with Ash and Kael aboard. Dove watched from inside the covered bay, where Thorne stood close enough to block the worst of the draft. Kael raised a hand through the passenger window, while Ash checked the gate until it shut behind them. Neither gesture promised anything she could spend.

Morning brought Day Nineteen, three little tin whistles, and Sprout sounding delighted about emergency preparedness. Selling two would earn ten normal coins. Five new Favor Coins would unlock a thermal wrap priced at twenty-four normal coins.

"A whistle," Dove said. "Finally, a product that lets me become more annoying at a distance."

"Audible signaling may improve safety when visibility is poor."

"So can not sending management away in the only truck. Put that on your next flyer."

She accepted the consignment with twenty-one normal coins and thirty-four Favor, then took her daily pool-water wash behind the closed tarp. Her body stayed on the mat while her mind filled the basin. The water came out with her hands, and the washing still required elbows, a cloth, and an undignified argument with the underside of her tail.

Her new top and skirt still fit. She was pleased about that in the cautious way someone might be pleased that a toilet had stopped making an expensive noise. Her fur dried bright, her legs felt stronger, and the cold near the floor bothered her less quickly. She put on warm layers anyway.

The keeper arrived carrying the clothes Ash had ordered. There was a loose wool shirt, lined trousers with a tail opening, and a heavy coat that fastened well clear of her chest. He showed her which seams had been let out and explained that household stores had supplied them.

"What do I owe?" she asked, already counting the few things she could trade.

"Nothing. They’re issued clothes. Same rule as the other women. I need your borrowed shirt back when you’ve checked these."

Dove looked down at the folded wool. Nobody had asked her to smile, touch somebody, produce a miracle, or stop being difficult before handing it over. She needed a moment to stop waiting for the rest of the sentence.

"I’ll try them," she said, and closed the tarp before the relief showed too clearly.

She touched the lining before she undressed. In Cleveland, clothes had been something she complained about folding, something customers left inside out on the floor. She had never expected to miss being bored by a pile of clean trousers. The thought stayed with her while she changed, quieter than the jokes she would use when she opened the tarp again.

Everything fit. The trousers were plain, the coat smelled faintly of clean storage cloth, and she could lift both arms without hearing a seam threaten legal action. She folded the too-small borrowed shirt for the keeper and put her owned sports clothes safely away.

Thorne arrived as she was returning his coat, brushed clean and folded across both arms. He took it without looking wounded, which was another useful thing he kept doing when she braced for a problem.

"You found clothes," he said, watching her turn to check the tail opening.

"Please contain your grief. The tennis club has closed for winter."

His quiet laugh earned five Favor Coins, bringing that purse to thirty-nine and unlocking the wrap. He looked at her face afterward, pleased in a way that made the practical coat feel unexpectedly personal.

"You look comfortable," he said.

Dove stopped tugging at the cuff. Of all the things men had told her she looked like lately, that one nearly undid her. She busied herself placing the whistles on the display until she could answer normally.

Two watch workers traded a sealed jar of jam for two whistles. Sprout paid ten normal coins for the named target, raising that balance to thirty-one. Dove bought the thermal wrap for twenty-four behind the tarp, leaving seven, then folded it with her bedding.

The third whistle still belonged to Sprout. She resisted blowing it whenever Garran appeared at the far end of the hall, which should have qualified as unpaid public service.

Thorne had an early duty assignment the morning after tomorrow: checking the north heating intake with another worker. Varek would be inspecting the south watch post. The schedule lay open on the duty table, carrying Garran’s neat new marks beside the changes.

"Those are opposite ends," Dove said when Thorne showed her his shift.

"Work has a habit of being somewhere inconvenient. I’ll come after."

She wanted to ask him to stay near the stall instead, and disliked that wanting it immediately made her feel less independent. He had a job, she had a gate, and Ash had left a written order. She could survive a morning without arranging her own personal wall of attractive muscle.

Before closing, Garran returned with an empty collection tray. This time he brought two witnesses and a duty slip headed Supply Inspection.

"A sealed sample of each product," he said, setting the tray down. "Until they’re checked, the rest stays closed."