Elara walked fast with Kimi at her side and an unconscious old man draped across Kimi's back.
The man smelled like cheap liquor, old sweat, and whatever powder he had been using to convince himself he was still on vacation. His jacket had once been expensive. Now it hung from him like a curtain rescued from a bar floor. Kimi adjusted his weight with a grimace.
"If this man vomits on my suit before I even put the real one on, I am filing a personal complaint with every authority we have."
The small Ikona perched on the old man's shoulder made a weary sound. It looked like a block of gold that had grown fur out of spite.
"This old man has promised to vomit on royalty, police, two bartenders, and one decorative fountain, so your turn was coming."
