Nyx made me buy a meat bun before we entered the market.
"I ate," I said.
"When?"
I thought about it for too long.
She pointed at the stall.
The bun cost little and burned my tongue. I ate it standing beside a post while she checked the covered passage. My coat was plain, my right arm supported beneath it, and Nihil hung at my left hip where I could reach it with my good hand. None of those precautions made me less noticeable while trying to catch hot gravy with my sleeve.
Nyx handed me a cloth.
"Try not to negotiate until you've finished."
"Because I look foolish?"
"Because you're hungry."
I finished.
We had left our expected return time at the residence desk. The lawful supplier's order remained open. If Sable's part failed inspection, I would go home with less money for transport and continue waiting.
That was the sensible outcome. I reminded myself of it as we passed beneath the market's painted sign.
