The calculations occurring behind the woman's eyes shift from sizing up her rival to sizing up her future bill. It's working—it's worked. But she still sighs like she's doing them a favor, a painful one, to offer yet another price cut.

It won't be too late for her to change her mind until the money has exchanged hands, so Bastien keeps his expression schooled into nonchalance, like this is no better or worse an outcome than going to see about Monsieur Jacquard—or perhaps a bit worse, for him, now without excuse to go visit his close personal friend Claudette—until her back is turned to attend to writing out the terms of the order. Then he looks sidelong as Ness, eyebrows going up and mouth curved down in a universal sign for not bad, kid.