I was behind the counter. Arveth stood at the other side of it.
The symbols on his robes always looked different under lamplight than they did in the morning. Less like decoration, more like a record someone had written down and never bothered erasing.
The hem was worn bare along the front edge. The sort of wear you see on clothing that travels a lot through time and space and never stops long enough to worry about the hem.
He'd walked over from the chairs after finishing his latest assessment of them. The assessment hadn't changed. It wouldn't change either. The chairs would hear it several times and remain sound throughout.
I had a scrap of paper from the second ledger sitting on the counter. A pen. And the cloth. I moved the cloth. Checked the scrap. Put the pen down. Then picked it back up again.
