Kael tilted his head. "So?"
"He's turning eight."
"Exactly. Prime age for emotional bonding with advanced robotics."
I blinked. "You want to emotionally bond a child to a weaponized Furby?"
He ignored me completely and turned to the manager like we were in a private consultation. "Do you have a catalogue for your top-tier items? Actually, never mind. I'll just buy the store."
I physically grabbed him. "You're not buying the store."
Kael leaned in, voice low, like he was revealing state secrets. "Do you want people to think I'm poor, Aria?"
I stared at him. Just stared. Because what the actual hell?
"No one thinks you're poor," I hissed. "They think you're crazy. Which you are."
He shrugged. "Same difference."
I was already exhausted and we hadn't even made it to the birthday cards.
In a kids' clothing boutique, he held up a tiny Dior blazer like he'd found buried treasure.
"He can wear this for the party."
"He wipes his nose on his shirt, Kael."
