Lost Property smelled worse after the purpose contest opened.
Wet cardboard sat under the metal stink. Old arguments lived in the dust. Shelves climbed farther than the wall had room for, carrying keys, masks, rings, teeth, swords without hilts, hilts without swords, funeral ribbons, bottles of smoke, and one red shoe tapping its heel against nothing.
The finger tapped back from inside the black case.
Ty hated that the two rhythms almost matched.
The clerk behind the counter kept reading Unclaimed Umbrella Quarterly as if the room had not just accepted a challenge against Erebos Alkandros. She wore square glasses with no lenses and the expression of someone who had watched gods lose receipts and then charged them for replacement forms.
JJ stopped beside the counter and looked at the shelves.
"Can we all continue, or is the building about to charge rent?"
"Customers may continue, while liabilities should practice stillness."
JJ stared at her.
