The assistant walks too fast for Darien's liking. Darien tries not to scowl. He hates this already. The Academy's administrative building always smells like dry ink and ambition which is a disgusting combination… and now he's chasing a woman through it just to get a damn uniform for someone who probably won't even say thank you.
Heidi. Heidi with the big mouth and bigger eyes.
"Right this way, Alpha Darien," the assistant says, glancing over her shoulder politely. "Storage is just downstairs. We don't get many students personally requesting uniforms—especially not at this hour."
"Yeah, well, first time for everything," Darien mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets.
The storage room smells like starch and sealed boxes. Rows of navy-and-gold Academy uniforms hang in eerie stillness like they're waiting to be picked for battle. The assistant flips on a light, and Darien squints against the flicker of the fluorescent overhead.
