The shop was dimly lit and smelled stale like it hadn't been used in a while.
Scraps of metal were stacked against the walls, tangled wires spilling from crates. It looked like an old repair shop.
There was a single table in the center of the cramped room. The man waved for her to sit, and she obliged.
Kiah glanced around, unimpressed.
"This isn't your shop, is it?"
The man was in a corner rummaging through a sack. He paused and gave a lingering look. Then he grinned.
"Of course not. I move from place to place. I heard the owner was sick so I picked the lock and spent the night. But don't worry, I'm not going to steal anything. I'm way beyond that now. I'll leave before he comes back."
Kiah had never met a more openly shrewd person in her life. It just made the strange fraud all the more fascinating — oddly enough.
"You scoundrel."
She muttered but her voice didn't sound as cold as it did before.
"Jacob. My name is Jacob, so enough with the insults already."
