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"I'm so sorry, Ronnie," Corinna was saying, "if I'd known it was going to be defective, I'd never have put you to all the trouble of unwrapping it." Corinna was irritated, but frankly this was not an unusual state for her: life often seemed to throw disappointments her way. The latest such disappointment was on prominent display between her red-gloved hands in a giant cardboard box. Deluxe Shiatsu Foot Massager, it promised enticingly. She'd dragged herself out of bed at an ungodly hour on Black Friday to do her Christmas shopping, and had been proud of her excellent purchases, and now here she was, on Boxing Day. With a box. In the mobius strip that was the Returns and Exchanges line.

The deluxe shiatsu foot massager that she had gotten for Ronnie was not remotely deluxe: while the right foot massager spun its little massage beads around enthusiastically, and the heat radiated soothingly upward from the machine, the left foot massager simply sat in its place as it was, gone utterly lame. Perhaps crippled Tiny Tim Cratchit could appreciate it, but a person with two healthy feet, like Ronnie, certainly could not.

She had refused to let Ronnie carry the box -- ("This is not your Christmas present, it's an inconvenience and you shouldn't have to touch it.") -- so every few minutes, Corinna adjusted the weight in her arms again and made a fresh hmph! sound of annoyance.

Corinna tended to bristle like a porcupine the more things around her needed improving but were beyond her control, as though the very idea of things, any things, being beyond her control was an abhorrent one. Currently there were far too many things about the situation she would've altered, and could not: one of them was the man in front of her in like who smelled like cheese. He smelled a lot like cheese. Curdled cheese. She wrinkled her nose, made a face at Ronnie that clearly indicated 'dear God what is that smell?' and then pointed subtly to indicate just what that smell was. It was Curdled Cheese Man, and he was unhappy with his soothing LED lights alarm clock, it seemed.

But Veronica, doer of the impossible, managed to cheer Corinna slightly even so. "I love when you make your Rosie the Riveter face," she commented (though notably without handing over the box). "You look so fierce. I always thought that We Can Do It! poster looked like she was about to go uppercut Hitler." She smiled, with a faraway glow, and it was obvious that she was imagining Rosie the Riveter punching Nazis.

"Who knows," Corinna answered, "but you could be right. You really could be right."

The very suggestion was enough to put the idea into Corinna's head -- fraud! Fraud, right here in Destiny City! And then it wouldn't let go; the idea took root. She tried to banish it, did her best to tell herself that Ronnie was just joking, did her best to ask herself what Ronnie would do, what Dylan would say. None of this worked -- in her head all she could see was this conniving old lady trying to get one over on corporations anywhere. It was unbearable. What if Ronnie was right? What if Ronnie was right and Corinna let this woman get away with it? Unconscionable! Something would have to be done.

But first, an investigation: people were innocent until proven guilty, after all. Perhaps there was some other explanation.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" she waved her free hand, sidling around Curdled Cheese Man slightly to get to Elderly Lady (Suspected of) Perpetrating Fraud. "Excuse me, can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" Corinna waved three fingers in the air.

Elderly Lady (Suspected of) Perpetrating Fraud did not look amused. Curdled Cheese Man gave her a sidelong look, obviously suspicious that this was some kind of elaborate line-jumping grift. Ahead of them all, the line advanced again with a labored, person-by-person inchworm shuffle.

There weren't many things in the world that could compel Corinna Grant to turn from her course once set. Jobs left undone nagged at her, left her feeling empty and impotent until she had resolved them. Justice deferred was justice denied -- and Corinna hated to see justice denied, even if it was being denied to the very same store that had unjustly ruined her Christmas gift for Ronnie.

Fortunately, one of the few things that did tend to succeed in swaying Corinna Grant was Veronica Harvey. She knew the right language to speak when dealing with Corinna -- instead of offering arguments, she favored alternatives, other ways of achieving the same goal. Even Corinna knew this was invaluable, as she tended to be a person who favored one consistent approach to her goals: a direct line from Point A to Point B.

Ronnie was clever. Ronnie was a team player. She was the only person Corinna had really found suitable so far.

"That's a good point," she allowed, stepping back behind Curdled Cheese Man again with another unpleasant whiff for her troubles. "Why don't you go up ahead and let the store clerks know, and I'll stay here and hold our place in line."

"You're a godsend, Veronica Harvey," Corinna smiled. It was a relieved smile, the sort that alighted on Corinna's face only ever-so-rarely. Justice had been served. Gotham City could rest a bit easier tonight, thanks to Ronnie and Corinna.

She hefted the box high in her arms and stepped forward as, after a few minutes, Curdled Cheese Man was called up to the desk and they were free of his oppressive smell.

Corinna sighed, content. "So -- what do you want for Christmas?"

Veronica grinned and stroked her chin thoughtfully. "A Shiatsu Foot Massager that will only massage my left foot," she decided.

The clerk called out, "Next!" and they stepped up to the register together.