Nyx
Nyx followed the packet instead of the man.
The distinction mattered at the first turn. The courier passed his folder to a woman at the public desk, then went through a staff door alone. Following him would have taken Nyx past a clerk who knew exactly which badges belonged there.
She stayed beside the display of buckles.
The seller asked whether she wanted the narrow fastening or the wider one. Nyx showed him the worn edge of her old strap and let him compare them. He was entitled to expect a customer to answer while standing in front of his goods.
Beyond his shoulder, the folder lay on the desk. She could see its cover and the woman's hands. She couldn't read the sheet the woman consulted, and moving closer would mean abandoning the conversation midway through a perfectly ordinary question.
"The narrow one," Nyx said. "If the stitching holds."
