Karin frowned.

When she'd talked to Pierce about it, she'd stated in no uncertain terms that she wanted to get the wetsuit herself, no matter what it took. She wanted it to be fully hers, picked out from tip top to bottom. Her own time, her own money, her own decisions.

And now she had it without expending any of those things.

Even worse, it wasn't just the present that felt wrong. She knew Pierce was a liar and a disguise artist; the feeling that he had engineered a chain of events to get around her express wish seemed entirely possible. She felt manipulated, maybe even dirty.

Then again, that didn't wholly square with the man she knew. The one who'd spent years telling her everything about himself - secrets she wouldn't have told anyone if the secrets had been hers. And Gorial was the one who'd gone to effort and expense on her behalf, not Pierce. Pierce had delivered a letter and a chrono to a sentient who needed it.

Plus, black and purple really were her colors.

She would talk to him about it later; one way or another, the issue would be put to bed. In the meantime, she had a waiting Besalisk to thank.

"I love it, Gorial," she smiled at him. "And I accept it. Thank you."

"Ain't no trouble, Soft-step," he inclined his head. "We all do what we can fer each other."

"Yeah, we do," she said, turning her attention to James. Her companion was staring intently at a rack of wetsuits. "Hey, James, you okay? Change your mind about going out for a ride?"