Brinna Solt's receipt needle bent inside the route rail when a green blade punched through the latch beneath her table.
The released spring struck her shin. She trapped it under her boot before it could jump into the sorting gears, then pulled the needle free with its point folded against the shaft.
Across the loft, Varo covered the two breath bells with both hands. One bell rang through his left palm. The other gave a scrape and rocked against the wood without finishing its note.
"Close the lower latch before it eats our table."
Brinna crouched and looked through the opening around the green blade. Black grease coated the drawer on the other side. Blue filings clung to its runners, and a woman's hand held the blade steady beyond a cage of green bars.
The hand belonged to somebody who expected the latch to bite back.
"The spring came from their side. If I close it now, that green blade takes the stranger's wrist with it."
