“Well, sure. It’s kind of like a union. I mean, my shop steward’ll complain to the local, and the local’ll complain to management, and somebody’ll apologize.” Velvet shrugged. “Bureaucracy, you know?”

“The curse of the working class.”

“Yeah, that and cellulite.”

Robby laughed. Velvet decided that she might be okay after all.

In the kitchen, the coffeemaker dinged. Velvet went back and poured Bugs and Taz full, and carried Bugs back across the room to Robby, who murmured a distracted thanks and sipped while she flipped through a Christmas sale circular.

“What’s with the circus?”

“Hmm?” Robby glanced up. “Oh. I saw them in Ireland when I was ten, been going ever since. It started out to be a useful place to practice—”

“Practice what? Oh. Stealing.”

“Dipping,” Robby corrected primly. “I liked it so much I kept going just for the spectacle. Haven’t worked there in years.”

“What was it like?” Velvet sat down in the mint green armchair; it felt surprisingly comfortable. “Ireland, I mean, not the circus.”

Robby stared at her. Didn’t answer.

“Okay, obviously, this is not the right time. Excuse the fuck out of me. Hey, what about that soup, anyway?”

“Do you know how to use a can opener?” Robby asked.

“Of course, I—”

“Read the directions.” Robby pretended to be fascinated by the prices of garage door openers in her circular. “This is not the Hilton. I am not room service.”

Velvet opened her mouth, closed it, and went meekly to figure out the microwave.

She made chicken noodle soup and drank it straight out of the microwave bowl. As she was rinsing up, she heard Robby say from behind her, “Ireland was beautiful and I loved it. My Da was blown up on a train by the IRA. Collateral damage. Come on and I’ll show you your bedroom.”

Velvet decided she liked the bedroom, in a masochistic sort of way. The comforter on the bed was neon blue, the dresser the same mint green as the armchair in the living room. A full-length mirrored closet spanned one wall.

“My room is the next one over. Call me if you need anything.” Robby opened the closet and took out an armload of bright green sheets. “I suppose you Can look through my closet if you like, see if there’s something you could stand to wear.”

“Uh …” Velvet accepted the sheets and hugged them close, felt bruises twinge in protest. She took a deep breath of fabric softener. “Okay.”

After an awkward moment, Robby nodded back and left, shutting the door behind her.