The woman behind the counter nodded and began tapping at what some might consider an ancient-looking computer. But it's probably not much older than this body or at least the years I'd lived in my world - and that just kind of irks me.
"I'll need a payment card and some ID."
I quickly began to hand over Kyrie's white plastic lifeline, but faltered at the request for identification. This really is a problem I need to deal with somehow.
"I... don't have an ID with me."
The woman looked up and I could catch her expression shifting from business friendly to privately wary. A kind of look that suggested there was a story there.
"We require ID for check-in."
"I understand. Mine was stolen recently. As you can see, I have a lot on me and was… an easy target. I intend to start the process of replacing it, but I've only been in the city a day. I'm just grateful that I never keep this in that wallet…"
