Juna watched Hajin stare at the sign, his hand frozen halfway toward the Chain lying on the floor.
She scooped the links off the floor, winding them around his wrist, her claws careful against his skin. He let her do it without a word, his gaze never leaving the letters hanging over the door.
"It's just a name on a crate, Mutt," Hajin said, his voice flat as a plank.
"Your hand is shaking, Idiot."
"Later," he said, forcing a grin that never reached his eyes, "I'll tell you all of it later, I swear."
'He's lying a little. He's not lying about later.'
The door swung inward without a sound, revealing an endless hall of shelves climbing up into the waiting dark. Dust hung in the lamplight like slow snow, every spine along the shelves blank and waiting for a name.
"Nobody touch anything," Vella murmured, "libraries and I have never gotten along."
