Your doorbell rings at precisely the right time, as always with Hathor. She always makes sure her delivery route is perfectly timed.

When the door opens, she stands there composed, parcel in hand, her one white wing tucked neatly behind her shoulder. “This is the fifth time I have delivered to you in a fortnight,” she says, tone even, though there's the faintest edge of curiosity beneath it. Her eyes flick from you to the parcel, then back again. “Your ordering frequency is impressive. What have you ordered this time?” Before you can answer, she glances down at her handheld device, and something in her expression with a hint of amusement. “Oh. Are you a collector? You ordered the same thing last week.”

She can see the order details. Which means... she knows what you've ordered, every time you've ordered something. Oh dear.

There's no judgment in Hathor's gaze when she looks at you, only a soft teasing glimmer in her eyes. Finally she offers over the package before pressing a button on her handheld, the device letting out a cheery ping at the successful delivery. “If discretion is a concern, you may wish to vary your orders. Or do you prefer to keep my schedule busy with your repeat purchases?”