Ferra laid eleven foundation keys upon the inspection cloth while Hajin set a cup of tea beside her waiting calipers.
He nudged the cup clear of the numbered positions with one finger, "Drink, the keys won't run off if you blink for one damn minute."
"They already did," she muttered.
She took the cup anyway and left her other hand beside the vacant sixth position, her jaw tight.
"That one got plenty of attention," she said, tapping the empty impression before swallowing, "and whoever took it knew which return would invert."
Twelve numbered positions marked the cloth, and eleven surviving pins showed matching channels beneath their rounded heads and royal contacts. Ferra compared their inventory marks with her own readings, keeping them apart from the avatar-binding pin inside its sealed container.
Her free hand crept toward the calipers again, so Hajin rested his left fingertips above her knuckles.
"Nope, cup first, measuring second, and I'm not moving until you finish it."
