Elisser walks out of the back room with a different weight in her shoulders. Not lighter. Just redistributed. Whatever was sagging behind her ribs ten minutes ago has been lifted up to the level of her hands again, where she can do something with it.
She doesn't say goodbye. She just nods at me on her way past—a small, deliberate motion—and disappears through the curtain of bone beads.
The clicking sound of the beads settles, and then it's just me and Boris.
I take a slow sip of the wine. Sweet for two seconds, then bitter underneath.
"Boris."
He looks up.
"There's one more thing in our deal."
Boris swirls the wine in his cup. Drinks. Wipes his mouth with the back of one massive hand.
"I figured you weren't leaving until I was down to my underwear."
"You can keep them." I let a small smile through. "I want Scales."
I let the words sit.
"You said you've got them stockpiled. I want a cut. Payment and sponsorship for every run I make to the tower."
