“Too brief.”
“‘Hope you like these’?”
“Too casual.”
“‘From someone who appreciates your smile’?” Rux tried.
“TOO CREEPY! Damn it, Rux.”
“What’s creepy about appreciating someone’s smile?”
“When they don’t know who you are, everything.”
Mabon pulled out his phone, typing rapidly. “There are templates for anonymous gifts. Let me see... ‘A small token to brighten your day.’ That works.”
“It’s vague,” Rux said.
“Vague is safe.”
“Vague is boring.”
“Boring won’t get us arrested.”
Urien drained his whiskey. “We’ll figure out the note tomorrow. The important thing is we have a plan. A real plan. One that doesn’t involve police intervention or property crimes.”
“Or spontaneous combustion,” Rux added, eyeing Mabon.
“That was ONE time.”
“It was yesterday.”
“The newspaper was asking for it.”
“How does a newspaper ask for - never mind.” Rux stood, setting his empty glass on the sideboard. “Coffee beans tomorrow, along with a simple note, left discreetly at his doorstep when he’s not home.”
“How do we know when he’s not home?” Mabon asked.
Another silence.
“We can check his work schedule,” Urien said. “At the coffee shop. See when he’s working.”
“More surveillance, in other words.”
“I’m sure it’s public information.”
“Is it though?”
“It’s displayed on the shop window.”
“Is it?”
None of them actually knew if the Daily Bean posted employee schedules publicly.
“We’ll figure it out,” Urien said firmly. “The point is, we leave gifts. Small, thoughtful gifts that show we care without overwhelming him. Traditional dragon courtship, adapted for modern human sensibilities.”
“Dumbed down, you mean,” Rux muttered.
“Translated,” Mabon corrected. “We’re translating our intentions into a language he’ll understand.”
