I watch, fascinated, as Nalini’s subtle dominance display meets Aubrey’s practiced customer service smile. It’s like watching two entirely different languages of power clash—one ancient and primal, the other forged in the trenches of modern human commerce.
“No,” Nalini says, her tongue flicking out to taste Aubrey’s scent. “We haven’t.”
“I’m Aubrey,” she continues, maintaining eye contact with remarkable steadiness. “Though I couldn’t help but overhear you’re from the Bangkok temple. I’d love to hear your perspective on something.”
My hood flares slightly as she moves to one of our more valuable displays, her movements deliberate and precise. There’s something calculating in her tone that even has me unsure where she’s going with this.
“We recently acquired some artifacts thatappearto be from an old Thai temple complex.” She gestures to a set of ceremonial bells I’ve been meaning to authenticate. “Of course, with so many forgeries on the market these days, it’s hard to be certain without an expert opinion.”
It’s a masterful trap—Nalini must either admit she lacks the expertise to authenticate them, or break her aloof act to engagewith the items. Either way, her carefully crafted superiority takes a hit.
Nalini is silent for a moment, before snickering. “And you assume I would waste my time with such verification?”
“Oh, not at all,” Aubrey says, her tone still perfectly pleasant. “I just thought, given your position at the temple, you’d have unique insight into their historical significance. Especially now that humans are so interested in magical artifacts—it must be challenging, deciding what knowledge to share with the public.”
I barely suppress a pleased hiss. She’s neatly cornered Nalini between her own prejudices: either engage with a human professionally, or admit she lacks the authority she’s trying to project.
Nalini’s tongue flicks once, dismissively. “The bells are genuine temple artifacts, though hardly significant ones.” She turns to me with a practiced smile. “Really, Sundar darling, it’s sweet that you’re letting your little human pet take on such responsibilities. Though perhaps she’d be better suited to cataloging something less precious?” Her gaze sweeps the shop before landing on our trading card display. “Like those cards with the silly creatures on them.”
“Oh, you mean the Pokémon cards?” Aubrey’s voice brightens with genuine enthusiasm. “Funny you should mention those. Our first edition shadowless Charizard is actually worth more than that Ming dynasty protection scroll we got last week. Wild, right?”
Nalini’s hood flares with horror, and finally her carefully constructed mask cracks. “I cannot.” She practically spits the words. “Simply cannot.” With a dramatic sweep of her tail, she heads for the door, pausing only to add, “Sundar, do contact me when you’re ready to return to more… elevated pursuits. Until then, I have better things to do.”
The bell chimes her exit, and blessed silence falls. After a moment, Aubrey turns to me with a slight grin. “So… I’m guessing that’s what a naga Karen looks like?”
I suppress an amused chuckle. “That is one way of describing her.”
But then Aubrey’s expression sobers. “You two had history together, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit. “Though it ended poorly.”
“I gathered.” She studies me for a moment. “Sorry if I overstepped with the artifact thing. I just couldn’t stand how she was treating you.”
“How she was treatingme?” My hood flares in surprise. “Aubrey, she was deliberately insultingyou.”
“Please. I once worked retail during Black Friday. It takes more than a snippy snake to rattle me.” Then Aubrey winces and adds, “Sorry, no offense to present company.”
“None taken. And… I’m impressed. Most humans would have been intimidated by her display.”
“Yeah, well.” Aubrey turns back to her work, that careful distance returning to her voice. “Like I said, I’ve handled worse.”
The rest of the day passes in that same strange tension—her competence highlighted by how deliberately she maintains space between us. When she leaves in the evening, she’s quick to say, “Good night,” before adding, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and I reorganized the filing system, because we can’t exactly move the records to a spreadsheet without making sense of the chaos first.”
“A spreadsheet?”
“Yeah. I mean, we really need to start digitizing this stuff. But we’ll worry about that later. See you tomorrow.”
It’s only after she’s gone that I retreat to my office and discover… everything has changed. The admittedly chaotic filing system I’ve maintained for decades has been completely reorganized, with color-coded tabs and neat labels replacing my haphazard organization. Sticky notes in her familiar messy scrawl explain the new system, complete with little drawings in the corners—a star here, a crooked smiley face there.
I pick up one note, something tightening in my chest as I read: “Cross-referenced everything by attribute and decade acquired, because why make life harder than it needs to be? Also, thefiling cabinet definitely tried to eat me, but we came to an understanding. -A”
My tail curls around my chair as I examine more notes, each one revealing how much thought she’s put into making my work easier. She’s created a system that blends magical classification with modern efficiency, somehow managing to respect both the artifacts’ nature and the practical needs of running a business.
The care she’s taken with my records… it strikes something deeper than mere appreciation. How long have I been doing everything alone? Convincing myself it was better this way? Safer?
My tail lashes once, decisively. I need to figure out what went wrong between us. And more importantly, I need to fix it.
The question is… how?
