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If Yvette had been expecting some kind of embarrassing reaction from Lazarus, he was delighted to disappoint her. While he rarely felt the drive to leverage good manners and gentlemanly behavior against anyone, Yvette was a special case: someone he was interested in and didn't despise. In her case, he had no desire to make her uncomfortable.

"Ah," he said, "The joys of retail. Reconciling your till, dealing with customers with expired coupons, the drama of a declined credit card -- you're well rid of that stuff, absolutely. A lot of people think standing behind a register all day's an easy, cushy job, but stressful jobs'll ruin you." He smiled. "I do massage therapy, all I see are service industry employees tied in knots all the time. So this job's more clerical, I hope?"

Lazarus rebalanced his armfuls of bags and lengthened his step to keep up. Yvette was good at not offering too much information about herself, but he stored up what he could remember of everything she said, in case something occurred to him later. "Well, you're in the right place, then. A fulfilling job's worth its weight in gold." He shrugged. "Is that mixing metaphors? Does a job weigh anything? Maybe a briefcase does or something, I guess. Anyway," he grinned, "you know what I mean."

He didn't fail to notice what kind of specialty photo studio might supply the kinds of things to its customers that Yvette had been buying. "So, is this what you think you'd want to do with your life, then? A job like your boss has?"

Lazarus was beginning to feel very much like a pack mule -- which was a small price to pay to ingratiate himself with the mysterious Yvette. He looked at the store, studying it for further hints as to the business she worked for. Vintage photos, maybe? Pinups?

"It's hard to make connections in retail," he agreed. "Especially if you're working for any kind of a franchise business. But every step closer to what you want to do's a step closer to your dream job -- that's how you get your foot in the door with people and start to know people who can get you where you want to be. With a lot of jobs, it ends up being more about who you know than what you're good at, you know? So working a job that's close to your field can help you meet people in your field." He juggled one of the bags to the opposite hand.

"I think I'll stick outside," Lazarus said, not wanting to push his luck and lose ground with Yvette. "The last thing you want is me and my bag collection knocking over a mannequin when you're trying to do business." He raised an eyebrow. "But hey, when you're in there, ask them if they can give you an extra plastic garment bag. If we turn it upside down, we can stick a bunch of these smaller bags in there -- it'll be easier for you to carry them on the bus or out of your car or whatever that way."

"Aha," Lazarus said triumphantly, finding another nearby bench to start to set all the bags down. "Success -- these'll definitely make your life a little easier."

Not wanting to make a young girl feel like she was being groped by a stranger, he waited politely until Yvette had managed to shuffle the two garment backs away from her chest and over to one side, then plucked the plastic between two fingers and carefully eased the bags free without knocking over any of the boxes she was trying to carry.

"You do have a car, I hope?" he asked, starting to carefully situate all the lingerie and makeup bags into the garment bags she'd fetched. "This looks like more than one armful, and I'm afraid I can't exactly go with you on the bus -- otherwise we'd better call you a cab."

Lazarus almost winced. His only memory of his time with Yvette before this was bringing her back to life (what a stroke of accidental luck) and hustling her into a cab to the hospital. Was she remembering something about Dionysia from that time, maybe? Was that possible? Or was she just embarrassed that he'd pointed out a flaw in her plan?

Probably just embarrassed, he decided. Schörl had made it very clear that glamour made it impossible for people to recognize them powered up as the people they were when they were powered down.

"Look, it'll be okay," he tried to soothe, still tucking things away into garment bags. "Calling for a cab's easy. Are you worried your boss won't reimburse you?"

Lazarus considered this, wondering what would make someone more comfortable with buses than taxis. Most people preferred a taxi's privacy, and only took the bus to save money. Maybe the personal interaction with the driver was intimidating? Yvette did seem hinderingly shy. He wondered how she'd ever managed as a salesperson in a store like Elizabeth's Secret.

"If you're absolutely set on taking the bus," he said slowly, not liking the idea, "I can tie these two bags together and loop them over your shoulders like a scarf. It's just . . . " He offered her a sympathetic smile. "I doubt you'll be able to sit down."

Lazarus tilted his head, offering a guess as to what she'd 'nevermind'-ed. "Did you want me to call the cab company for you?" he suggested. "I can talk them through it, if you want."

Lazarus could see she was increasingly put off. Now she didn't even want him tying bags together, which was definitely harmless. He decided to cut his losses -- he'd gotten enough information for now, anyway. The internet would tell him what it could about her.

"Alright," he said, not looking terribly convinced. "Next time, tell your boss to rent you a U-Haul, okay?" He quirked an eyebrow. "And a shopping cart."