The basket hits the floor.
The can goes airborne.
What the hell—
A small body darts in, quick hands up, and catches it clean.
I stop.
She straightens with the can in her hand like this is a perfectly normal way for two adults to act in a grocery store.
Dark curly hair. Green eyes. Tight little curvy body. Small enough that most people probably underestimate her right up until they lose.
I look at the basket on the floor.
Then at her.
Then at the can.
“That was in my basket.”
“It left your basket.”
“You knocked it out.”
“And I caught it.” She tucks the can against her side. “Which feels relevant.”
No apology. No awkward smile. Nothing.
“You always tackle strangers over cat food?” I ask.
“You always this slow?”
That almost gets me.
I pick up the basket and set it upright. Shelf’s empty now.
Brick is going to be a pain in the ass about this.
“I had it first.”
“You had it briefly,” she says. “Then you lost control of the asset.”
I look at her.
She looks right back.
She’s got a whole argument ready to go at nine PM in a grocery store over cat food, and not one ounce of doubt behind it.
Hot little menace.
“That’s not how theft works.”
“It’s not theft if possession changed in motion.”
“That’s not a law.”
“It should be.”
