She nods, but I can tell she’s not thoroughly convinced. “What’s the job this time?”
“Sadie, you know I can’t say too much.”
“Nor do I want to know too much, I just want to know where my work will be seen.”
I sigh in mock exasperation. I wouldn’t normally tell, but she knows as well as I that if she spills, there are consequences.
“It’s a writing compound, called Ficly. There’re a couple characters in there of particular interest to us. I have to worm my way in, work up respect, you know how it is.”
“Do I ever.” She folds her hands on the workbench. “You have the metal?”
I smirk, gingerly slide a lump of uninteresting metal out of my pocket & hold it out to her in my gloved hand.
She nearly drops it in shock. “You know what that is, don’t you?” she whispers.
“Most certainly do. I know it turns a beautiful cerulean blue when tempered.”
“But how did you…?”
“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies, Sadie. You know that.” I give her a slip of paper. “Here’s the pattern. I’ll be back in a week.”