Captain Oren led them into a market without a gate, slowing beside the first stalls while narrow price lines formed before the customers reached their counters.
A baker placed loaves on a shelf as three people stepped forward in the order already waiting above his hands.
Juna slipped her uninjured hand through Hajin's, moving her thumb once across his knuckles while the perfectly arranged queue passed beside them.
"That part wasn't on the schedule," he murmured.
"Complain to the council."
He kept her hand while looking at the baker, who reached for another loaf before the next customer had opened her mouth.
"Does he choose when to open?"
"The city knows what each street requires," Oren replied, "his flour arrives before he has to request the delivery."
"Convenient."
"Very."
The baker's shoulders tightened before he smiled at the exchange, letting Hajin see the order of the two reactions while the pale cord at his wrist changed.
