He returned to contemplating the bottles while I sculpted his chin, the swoop of his feathers, the more generic shape of a body beneath his face, and the familiar loops of the spire in the background.
“And… relax.” I dropped the finished brooch in my bucket of water to cool it off, retrieved it, and held it out to him, offering to fasten it to his shirt.
He leaned close enough to let me, still watching the bottles as if they might disappear.
“I don’t suppose you take Dyad credits,” he said.
“No, sorry, but I can do Lightwallet transfers for pre-made items,” I answered. “Why?”
With the gold-tinted brooch on his chest and a full bottle of ground red cabbage tucked into his traveling satchel, he confirmed the private transfer to my account, thanked me for it, and hurried off into the bri
