Page 131 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

The simple certainty of it affected me more than it should have.

Later, after another run and a long rest in the shade, the conversation turned toward the firm. I didn’t intend it to. It happened when Quinn mentioned the Friday memo and joked that Helena Wallace had given her a deadline so precise it felt legally enforceable.

“You’re doing valuable work,” I said.

She took a drink of water, then lowered the bottle slowly. “That’s the dream.”

“It shouldn’t be only a dream.”

Her mouth twisted to the side. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Assuming valuable work gets valued because that would be logical.”

I looked at her.

She smiled faintly. “The internship is paid. It just doesn’t pay enough to make rent, student loans, and Max’s prescriptions stop their siege on my checking account.”

I frowned toward the field, where Max had gotten bored with our conversation and discovered another stick but was now only resting his chin on it. “If interns produce work the firm relies on, they should be compensated properly.”

“They should.”

“Then why aren’t they?”

“Because wanting something badly makes people very available for exploitation.”

The sentence sat in the open air between us. I disliked it immensely.

“I’ll speak to Helena Wallace,” I said.

“No.”

The refusal came instantly.

I turned to her.

She set her water bottle down. “Rafe.”

“It’s not acceptable.”

“I know, but that’s how it works.”

“If the firm bills client work supported by interns, then the⁠—”

“I know.” Her voice stayed calm, but there was firmness underneath it. “And I know you mean well. But I can’t be the intern whose billionaire dragon client gets involved in compensation policy because I made a sad face near a sandwich.”

“You didn’t make a sad face.”

“Good. At least my dignity is intact, then.”

“It’s a systemic issue.”

“Yes. And if you want to raise it because it is a systemic issue, not because of me, then think about the timing and the shape of that very carefully. But please don’t make me the reason.”

I wanted to argue, which was becoming a familiar sensation around Quinn. The desire to fix, met by the knowledge that fixing without permission could become its own form of damage.

“You would rather have nothing change?” I asked.