The following morning, a nervous courier arrived and delivered boxes that the Drai brought inside. When the skimmer was unloaded and the boxes all on the main floor, she asked, “What is it?” “The complete contents of your apartment from the city. I thought you would enjoy your possessions and your wardrobe when you visited.” He crossed his arms and leaned in the open doorway. It was nice that he was playing along with her refusal to agree to like his home. “And what will I wear when I return to my apartment?” He shrugged. “Not my department.” She gasped and stomped over to smack him on the arm. She had taught him that very Terran phrase that morning when he had asked her if she could cook. She reached out to open one of the boxes, but it dissolved in front of her. The clothing inside was her Azon dress collection, and she watched, bemused as it marched itself up the steps.
