Page 64 of Commander’s Mate
Tivid, standing beside him, looked too.
I continued.
“If fifteen people only trust sealed food, put sealed food in one distribution lane.”
Scarlet nodded.
“If meal timing is causing panic, post the schedule.”
Nora added, “And medical can flag true dietary contraindications so supply does not waste food people physically cannot eat.”
The clerk looked at the numbers again.
His irritation changed shape.
Less personal.
More mathematical.
I knew that look.
It was the expression people got when a complaint became data.
“How many sealed-package requests?” he asked.
“Twenty-three so far.”
“Protein intolerance?”
“Eleven confirmed. Six possible.”
“Religious restriction?”
“Fourteen, but I’m still missing three species translations.”
He took the slate.
Not gently.
But he took it.
“Give me an hour.”
Scarlet watched him go.
“You win.”
“I’m not fighting him.”
“You absolutely are.”
“No. I’m fighting the category.”
She grinned.
“Federal employee.”
“Shut up.”
