Bandi sat on the edge of her desk. Of course he wouldn’t just use the stool. The plant seemed allergic to sitting properly in any setting. Ugh whatever.
“Does it ring a bell?” He asked.
“Maybe. Bolli’s not a common name nowadays, that’s for sure. Old-fashioned.” He’d said it was from his client’s grandfather. If they were talking human ages, that meant this Bolli character existed at least a century ago so an old-fashioned name made sense. She scoured news articles and government documents but there were too many entries for just any Bolli.
“What’s the client’s name?” Dwag asked. A shot in the dark maybe, but if the human wasn’t a thief, then they might have a relation that would narrow down the results.
“Alleman. Is this necessary?” He looked almost bored, but she knew him better by now—the salad was as curious as she was. He just didn’t like showing it. ”I’m just stealing the thing back. I don’t think I need its history.”
“Oh foolish bookah,” she huffed, content. “You should always know what you’re stealing!”
He snorted at that but didn’t argue. She scratched her ears, thinking, before she continued, “You may as well tell me whatever leads you got though and whatever else you know. I’d rather not waste my precious time.”
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