the smuggler’s bible

Vlasti

The kid has been gone a while. Vlasti stands with his hands in his coat pockets, pretending to examine the sale rack. None of it sparks his interest, just as it failed to do so ten minutes ago.

He sighs deeply and prepares to hunt up another employee. He turns and sees the kid hurrying down the aisle, sweating visibly.

“Well? Have you got one?”

“I looked, sir. I pursued several avenues of inquiry.”

“Cease your flummery.”

“Can you please provide further context? We do not carry any item called a starching apparatus. And especially not one in size medium.”