Limitless Evolution As a Snake

Renn looked at me as though an unpaid bill had learned to bite, but he still tried telling the fairy that their discussion was private. She asked him to lower his voice because he was disturbing her guest, then opened his folder without offering him a seat.

The paperwork claimed her missing shipment had been released to an approved representative. Renn explained that any trouble after collection belonged to her office, wearing the calm smile of a man who expected a polite woman to apologise for bothering him.

”Would you show me where he signed and confirm the collection date, because I would hate to miss such an impressive recovery?” she asked. Renn pointed to both details before she explained that the supposed collector had spent that entire week in hospital with a broken pelvis.

[System: That’s a bloody good delivery man, mate, considering most blokes with a broken pelvis struggle to reach the bathroom, let alone pick up a fridge they’ve never seen.]

If she makes him apologise to the fridge, I’m asking her to marry me before somebody with legs gets there first.

The fairy mentioned the hospital record her office had already sent him, including the time he’d confirmed receiving it, and Renn’s smile became much harder to maintain.

He called it a clerical error, but she said his clerks appeared to be having adventures nobody else could afford. I laughed before deciding whether it would help, drawing the sort of look men saved for witnesses they couldn’t easily make disappear.

”I’d be annoyed too if my staff kept teaching hospital patients to collect stolen goods, because that sounds difficult to explain at meetings,” I told him. A waiter moved two glasses away from the folder before informing Renn that his transport was ready.

Renn said he hadn’t ordered transport, and the waiter explained that the lounge had arranged it for him. He left a copy of the collection form behind when the fairy kept hold of it, then walked downstairs with much less interest in making eye contact.

She introduced herself as Bridget, and I gave her Matt without adding my family name to a conversation that was already expensive enough. Her missing shipment contained special plant resin in cooling cabinets, taken after a loading dispute that ended with an empty van being returned to the courier.

”Your boxes apparently walked out with a man who couldn’t walk, so I can see why you’re questioning the level of service,” I said. She belonged to the Sylphid family, whose money came from atmospheric mana refining and plant-based medicines, although she made it sound as ordinary as naming a street.

Her family’s lawyers were chasing the records, but she wanted the actual goods found before another buyer moved them somewhere harder to reach. She showed me a cabinet photograph with a blue triangle by its vent and a serial plate below, then offered a fee for its location and useful proof.

[System: She’s offering money to go where you were heading anyway; try saying yes before you stare at her wings long enough to get charged for the view.]

I’m checking whether the dress leaves her enough room to move, which seems important if we’re going to annoy the same people. Bridget held the photograph where I could see it, and her shoulder brushed my neck while I recognised the patched yellow jacket on the worker behind the cabinet.

”I’ve seen that bloke in Lukas’s depot photograph, so send me the numbers and I’ll see whether we can make your missing delivery less mysterious,” I said. She left her shoulder against me while sending the files, then asked whether this counted as an approved inspection of my equipment.

”I normally charge for private inspections, but you’ve already bullied a thief for me, so I’m willing to discuss a discount,” I said. Lukas arrived wearing a feather boa and announced that somebody liked his jumping, giving Bridget reason to question whether they’d watched the landing.

A message from Nessa reached the phone inside my body while Lukas was still defending himself. New inspection notices had appeared at her empty trading bay and the neighbouring stalls, suggesting Renn was already finding more people to punish for our interest in his fees.

I forwarded the photograph to Bridget, who read it on her own phone before looking towards the service lift below us, where two collectors were wheeling away a drinks fridge while the bartender argued. Renn stood beside them with a collection order, apparently unwilling to leave without taking something that cost more than his pride.

[System: That empty glass booth lowers for cleaning, mate; drop it in front of their trolley and give the bastards a nice clear view of their plans going nowhere.]

We could sell tickets while they’re trapped, although I suppose I’d have to give the lounge a cut of its own robbery. When I asked Bridget how the booth controls worked, her smile made it clear that she preferred the question to anything about the weather.

She checked the aisle below before pressing the lowering button. The empty booth descended until its glass floor blocked the trolley at waist height, leaving the collectors boxed against the bar while the bartender pulled his fridge back out of their hands.

”I think your transport has developed a seating problem, Mr Renn, but I’m sure somebody can charge you a release fee,” I called down. Guests turned towards the noise while Lukas filmed, and Bridget waved with two fingers as Renn looked up at us.

For a moment, I thought he would shout at the whole room. Instead, he stepped aside and spoke quietly into his phone while one collector abandoned the trolley and hurried towards the exit without waiting for him.

Lukas checked the time on Nessa’s auction photograph, then held it beside a new message from the depot. Renn had brought the document disposal forward, and the original slips were due to be shredded before the night staff left.

Bridget took her shoulder from my neck and reached for her coat while I watched the collector disappear through the doors. We had found the right man, but he had just sent somebody to destroy the paper we needed to take Nessa’s truck back.