Page 9 of Mane Rival in Store by Milly Taiden

“You’ve moved the Batman Number One facsimile four times since you came back from next door.”

“The lighting shifted when the clouds moved.”

“There are no clouds. It’s clear skies over SoHo. I checked.” Dekel tapped the display case glass with one finger—a casual, borderline disrespectful gesture that made Rune’s eye twitch. “What happened next door?”

Rune adjusted his cuffs. Straightened the counter display of grading brochures. Aligned the edges. “I introduced myself and requested a reduction in their music volume.”

“And?”

“The request was acknowledged.”

“Was it accepted?”

“The acknowledgment was… conditional.”

Dekel’s grin widened. On another man, the expression would have been friendly. On Dekel, it was tactical reconnaissance. “What does she look like?”

“Irrelevant.”

“You said that fast.”

“I said it at a normal conversational speed.”

“You said ‘irrelevant’ how most people say ‘extremely relevant and I’m panicking about it.’” Dekel strolled to the front of the store where the shared wall ended and the glass began—the same narrow gap that gave a clear view into Villainette. The purple neon. The rotating mannequin. The three women visible through the neighboring glass, one of whom was⁠—

Rune stepped into his sight line. An instinctive movement. Territorial. He caught himself doing it and redirected, pretending he’d been reaching for a display cloth.

Dekel noticed. Dekel always noticed. The grin became a full smile. “She’s pretty.”

“She’s a neighboring business owner whose audio levels are impacting our customer experience.”

“That’s the longest way anyone has ever said ‘yes, she’s pretty.’”

“Dekel.”

“What’s her name?”

Lark. The name sat in his chest like a held breath. Bright. Sharp. A bird’s name—quick and impossible to catch. She’d said it with the confidence of a woman who had never introduced herself without commanding the room, and she’d extended her hand, and he’d taken it, and her fingers were steady, and her grip was sure, and the lion had roared so loudly behind his ribs that he was certain she’d heard it.

She had not heard it. She had, instead, called him Your Majesty with a smile that bypassed every defense he’d spent twelve years constructing and landed directly in the center of his nervous system.

“Her name is Lark Coleman.” He set down the cloth. “She’s the founder of Villainette. It’s a villain-themed lifestyle brand. Cosmetics, comics, cosplay supplies.”

“I know what Villainette is. They carry Celestial Ronin merch. We share three consignment channels.” Dekel dropped into the chair behind the register. “What did she say about the music?”

“She said she’d consider adjusting it.”

“Consider.”

“After they open.”

“So, no.”

Rune’s teeth set. “She also called my store ‘curated’ as though it were an insult.”

“Your store is curated. You curate it. You’ve built an entire brand on curation.”

“She meant it pejoratively.”