The laundry queen stopped exactly two meters away from Nyx and looked at her.
Not at the cord. At Nyx.
Which, honestly, was more intimidating. People who looked at the object were manageable because objects implied problems with solutions. People who looked at the person usually believed the problem was philosophical. Those kinds of people tended to organize labels in cupboards and emotions into categories.
"I'm going to say this clearly," she said in the same tone she'd been using all morning, the voice of someone who believed consistency was morally superior to volume, "because I prefer clarity to repetition, and we've already had far too much repetition today."
"Sure," Nyx said.
"The darks went into machine two. Twice. Machine two is not for darks. I explained that at the beginning, and then again after the first time, and you agreed both times, and then it happened again anyway."
She paused, not for drama but inventory.
