{Samara}
In the end, Samara crossed the road.
The workshop lock was a joke. Vessa had walked her through here twice already, chatting the whole time, never once thinking of her as a person who picks locks for a living. So getting in took her about as long as it takes to feel terrible about it.
Which was to say, not long at all.
Inside, it smelled like cedar shavings. There was a half-finished cold container on the bench, with Vessa's neat little handwriting on a tag tied to the handle.
[Just pick a shelf and be done with it.]
She tucked the stone behind a jar of reagent dust on the high shelf, somewhere you'd never look unless you were dusting. And Vessa did not strike her as a woman who dusted. Then she stood there a second, and promptly let herself out.
[There. Done.]
She pulled her hood up and went home.
---
{Vessa}
Dusting was one of Vessa's favorite hobbies!
