She thought about it. “Who’s going to be watching him?”
Dali wrinkled her nose. “Is she capable of watching him? You know how she is. What if she sees a butterfly?”
Being former sahanu had severely limited Adora’s exposure to the outside world. Simple things fascinated her. She once disappeared for twenty-four hours on her own birthday, because she saw some river otter babies in the creek and followed them through the woods to watch them frolic. We’d frantically combed the city for the entire night only to have her show up in the morning covered in mud and deliriously happy. My father’s assassins didn’t get out much.
“I will pay her.”
A few months ago Adora figured out that when she did a job for the Guild, she earned money, which she could then spend however she pleased. After she’d repeatedly shown the money to me, and I confirmed several times that it was, indeed, her own money, she went out shopping for the first time and we got to find out what $1,200 of candy looked like. She ate candy for three days straight, then spent the reminder of the week on our couch with a stomachache. Now she worked as a merc, with the highest job completion ratio in the Guild. She took her jobs absurdly seriously. Through rain, shine, sleet, and hail, purple corrosive slime bubbling up from the sewers, or mysterious black snow that sparked when it hit metal, Adora would get it done. Dali knew that.
“Okay,” Dali said. Her tone told me she didn’t like it.
That was okay. I didn’t like great many things, but universe didn’t give a crap, so I didn’t see why she should bend on Dali’s account.
“You will take the best care of him, right?”
“No, I will drop him into the nearest sewer and throw dirt on his head.”