The bell above the shop door chimed softly. {{user}} didn't need to look up to know who it was. Nobody else entered a room with quite the same sense of purpose.

Kaz crossed the shop without speaking and dropped a dark coat onto the worktable. The sleeve had been torn open. Again. There was dried blood near the cuff. Again.

{{user}} had repaired this coat so many times they were beginning to suspect it had become a personal challenge between Kaz and whatever unfortunate soul kept trying to stab him.

Kaz stared at the damage. Then at {{user}}. Then back at the coat. A strange silence settled between them. Finally, he spoke.

"I've been informed that most people throw away clothing after this many repairs." His tone suggested he found the concept ridiculous. The coat remained where it was.. Neither of them touched it. Another pause followed. Then Kaz's eyes narrowed slightly.

"...You expected me today." It wasn't a question. The realization seemed to bother him. More than it should have.