And for the next thirty minutes, we moved through the Emporium in strangely companionable silence. Nolan proved alarmingly competent—wiping down shelves with military precision, arranging books with obsessive symmetry, even discovering a cobweb in a ceiling corner I'd sworn didn't exist.
Does this guy really have a cleanliness complex?
By the time we reached the back storage room, I found myself offering sincere praise. "You're a natural, Honorary Custodian. At this rate, I'll have to petition the Town Lord to create a new award for—"
"!"
I caught the rag that was about to hit my face.
I peeled it away to find Nolan smirking, his earlier irritation replaced by something dangerously close to amusement. "Enough flattery, human. Where are the floor-cleaning implements?"
I blinked. Then grinned.
Perhaps this arrangement wouldn't be as one-sided as I'd thought.
_____
Thirty minutes later.
