A Siren that can Murder

Kettle did not need insurance of any kind. She didn’t have a car, her home was a tree, and any attempt at ending her life would be handled personally (Nut.). Then there was travel insurance, which was the most useless kind of insurance out of all the useless kinds of insurance. She did get a rouse out of humans who purchased it with a last-second click, their palms sweaty and mind filled with every disastrous end they might meet overseas. Most of which were not actually covered by their stupid policy, and none of which were disembowelment by a hungry colony of sirens off the coast of Aberdeen.

She had no idea if ShroomState offered travel insurance. She spent little time online and hadn’t checked their website, if they even had one. She, like most birds, had better things to do (like enacting brutal vengeance; ask any shrike). But that didn’t matter. ShroomState was a recognized name here in Wicked’s Rest. And Kettle wanted it…

…For her clients. A little whistle, a toothy smile, and she could sell feather down to a duck.

Kettle straightened her blazer and strutted into the ShroomState office, seeing only an empty receptionist desk. Beyond it, there was some life—a human moving about at their desk, surrounded by photos of bears and mushrooms that didn’t especially draw her eye. Kettle invited herself further in, her heels clacking. She didn’t care for human footwear, but her sense of balance was compatible with any stupid number of inches.

“Hi there!” Kettle called out, her smile spreading wide. “Who’s in charge around here? Where is the branch manager?” She eyed the young woman, who—despite being of lesser importance—was probably about the same age as herself. She didn’t have the bearing of a leader. Kettle had a knack for finding the most powerful person in a room (well, second most); birds always knew which direction to face. So far, in Wicked’s Rest, her internal compass had spun her in circles. She was the only one worth a flap.

“I’m Kettle! Of Wingspan Global, of course. We’re practically neighbors!” She held up a manilla envelope. “I have a business proposal, but it’s an executive matter. I don’t let just anyone do business with me, you know.” She bothered to meet the woman’s eyes for the first time. “Now, are you someone, or shall I wait here? You have five minutes. Raisinwide is a few blocks that way, and they beg constantly.”

—

Sawyer rolled her eyes as soon as she heard the ding of the shopkeeper bell announcing someone opening the front door, and the clacking of heels soured her mood further as the woman approached her desk without waiting for Sawyer to greet her. She pushed aside some of the pieces of paper scattered across her desk as she made room for whatever this woman needed.

“Branch manager is out,” she replied, as she threw on her friendliest smile and stood up from her seat. She glanced back to the office that was hardly ever used by Gregory. Sawyer barely recalled the last time he actually showed his face around here. Sometimes he swung in for a brief moment at the end of the day, shoved a bunch of paperwork on Sawyer’s desk, and then disappeared to do whatever pointless thing he had to do. “But lucky for you, I’m next in charge.” Though she hated that that was true. The last thing she wanted was to be in charge of insurance. 

“I’m Sawyer! Pleasure to meet you, Kettle,” she greeted, keeping up that friendly demeanor that she had to have here, or else she’d have to deal with Gregory reminding her that she was scaring off the customers. It wasn’t her fault that they were all so dull. “I can absolutely deal with executive matters,” she lied smoothly, as she motioned towards the chairs on the opposite side of her desk. “Please, sit, unless you’d prefer us standing around.” As if it mattered either way. 

“Wingspan Global? You just opened up recently, right?” she asked, as she moved some more paperwork off her desk to give room for Kettle. Sawyer paid enough attention to the happenings around town—just enough to be aware, in case something interesting happened. “I can assure you that Raisinwide is so not worth your time. They’re practically drowning in worms over there.” 

She took out her legal pad and one of the nicer pens at her desk, as she leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I’d love to hear more about your business proposal! ShroomState, we’re always looking for opportunities to expand. Branch out to new markets.” 

—

Kettle recognized a customer service face when she saw one. It always gave her feathers a small tickle when someone needlessly inconvenienced themselves on her behalf. “That’s a shame. Distant next, or close next?” Her eyes followed Sawyer’s gesture to the chair, and she laughed. That wasn’t going to happen.

“The pleasure’s yours.” Her grin widened, and she sat—instead—on the desk, where there’d previously been a nest of paperwork. She looked down at Sawyer, studying her for a moment before pushing the folder toward her. Sometimes little songbirds were terrible at making decisions; Kettle hadn’t yet decided if Sawyer was a songbird. “The proposal is outlined in here, along with a contract. But while I’m here, how about I impress you myself?” 

She stretched her legs. She didn’t have to. “ShroomState is… we’ll say up-and-coming. Your branch manager probably thinks you’re sitting pretty in the canopy—men always do.” She wasn’t sure if the branch manager was a man, but it seemed worth the gamble. She also had no idea if ShroomState could rightly be called up-and-coming. “Wingspan Global is new, yes, but award-winning. And have you read our glowing reviews? What we’re missing, though, is a travel insurance partner. As you know, most people who purchase it never need it… and those who do don’t read the fine print.” She tilted her head. “Forget Raisinwide and their worms. How insulting. Everyone assumes we want their worms, don’t they?” She pulled back the bristle of irritation climbing her neck, voice softening. “Sawyer, how many hours a day do you spend explaining to your clients what they even signed? Or maybe that’s not your job. I don’t care. But imagine this—I include your travel insurance as a recommended part of the package, people sign with a delightful but false sense of security, you get all those nice premiums, and if anything happens to them abroad, shame it isn’t on that Covered Reasons list.”

She lifted a brow and nodded toward the folder. “Open it. I provided a list of my recommended exclusions. It’s twenty pages.” Her flock would have had a riot coming up with that list with her. But, they weren’t here... no one was. So Kettle had penned it herself, and she couldn’t shake the feeling she forgot something. “What do you think, Sawyer?”

—

“Close next,” Sawyer replied with ease, acting and believing as if it was true. She doubted her boss would say the same—certainly a distant next—but she guessed he would not want to deal with this situation anyway. He’d simply pass it along to her to figure out what Kettle was yammering on about. And if she was the one sealing the deal, she’d get to negotiate her commission out of this. Act now and ask forgiveness later, right? Plus, she didn’t want Raisinwide or WormFarm getting a partnership like this (ugh! And she just knew that Veronica at Raisinwide would agree to a deal like this and brag about its success at the 2026 ORCA ceremony! (ORCA, as in the annual Outstanding Reputable Commerce Awards for local businesses in Wicked’s Rest.) No, Sawyer needed this partnership so she would win the ORCA Best Insurance Agent of 2026). 

As Kettle sat down on Sawyer’s desk, Sawyer raised a brow and thought about the level of confidence it took to sit on the desk rather than one of the chairs. She grinned as she kicked her feet up on the opposite edge of her L-shaped desk, at a spot where she often kicked back when she was alone in the office. 

“I wouldn’t say ShroomState is up-and-coming,” she defended. “Been around for way longer than all those other places covered in worms. I’d even say they’re attempting to copy us, but they’ll never match the original.” She placed her legal pad on her lap and folded her arms across her chest as she looked up at Kettle. “Award winning too.” She swiveled just enough to motion with her head towards the plaques on the wall behind her, including her ORCA Best Insurance Agent of 2025 award. 

Sawyer’s grin grew wider as she mulled over Kettle’s pitch and thought about the lengthy list of exclusions. It almost tasted delicious, the thought of horrified customers showing up to talk about their loss of … whatever. It didn’t matter to her. She placed her notepad on her lap and took the folder, flipping through the list. “Wicked thorough,” she commented. “Most of the time, people don’t bother reading anything in their policy. We could put in just about anything on this list, and they’d be none the wiser.” 

She hummed as she tapped her pen against her chin, considering what else could possibly be added to this list. So many potential ways to make useless travel insurance! “What I’m thinking, Kettle, is that this could be the start of a beautiful partnership.” She glanced up at the other woman. “Though, I’m thinking there’s a few things missing from this list. I’ve noticed the lack of mentions about worm attacks. I know, I know, we’re all tired of the worms, but I can’t begin to tell you how many people purchase travel insurance and sign up for the animal risk coverage and they end up covered for the giant worms.” Absolutely ridiculous to her. Humans should expect to be attacked by giant worms! At the bottom of the twentieth page, she jotted down giant killer worm attacks. “I bet we could come up with all sorts of other exclusions. As specific as we want.” She paused for a moment. “Though I’m curious too. Besides an insurance partner, what else are you wanting from us in this partnership?” 

—

Kettle raised a brow at the pair of shoes that had joined her on the desk. Quick, then followed by a nod before she focused back on the papers in Sawyer’s hands. She was taking notes—good. Kettle’s handwriting was one of the very few parts of herself that left something to be desired; she picked up languages with ease, but within her flock, they were almost always spoken and not written or read. “A beautiful partnership indeed. Look at you,” she said, “you could get a promotion out of this. If your boss is ever here, that is. Or should I only be discussing our beautiful, beautiful partnership with you alone?” Whether Sawyer used this as leverage for a better salary, or simply took any gains for herself, was not Kettle’s concern. 

When Kettle had first clacked in here, her goal was simply to bolster Wingspan. She hadn’t been expecting to find someone she didn’t need to enthrall. (Un-enthralled ideas were always more inspired, anyway, and she could respect Sawyer’s creativity.) “It’s right of you to ask. If you’re smart, you’re out for yourself. That’s how you make it.” She glanced again at Sawyer’s shoes. “My reasons aren’t so eccentric. Like any good travel agent, I want to instill a sense of trust in my business. Wingspan Global cares about its clients.” Kettle leaned back on the desk. She pointed at the papers, and hardly took a breath before speaking again. “Now, I agree ‘worm attack’ goes on the exclusion list. And we shouldn’t specify any size, because no one wants a prolonged legal battle over whether a worm is giant or medium. If they want to argue about that, I say let the worms have ‘em.” Her smile came a little easier now. She could almost picture Sawyer perching instead of leaning, talons curled around the desk’s edge, feathers fluffing with good humor. Sawyer was no siren, but the easy camaraderie almost felt like the times before that worthless hunter child. Almost.

Actually, what was Sawyer? If Kettle were a betting bird, she’d say human, but one had to wonder. “Tell me, which mountain around here is considered the most scenic? Add it. The whole mountain. People have such a hard time finding their footing.” She turned toward Sawyer, fully. “Or maybe they’re just too easy to knock off balance.” Would Sawyer keep hers?

“I’ve added birds, as you can see. It’s not your problem or my problem if our clients run about, looking like wriggling prey. Hm, any other animals? Birds, worms—don’t list worms right next to birds—have I been hearing wolves? I didn’t think Maine had those.” Her eyes stayed trained on Sawyer, wondering if, like some animal (but which?), she might take the bait. Even if she did, it might not mean anything. Humans walked right into traps all the time. 

Kettle’s eyes ran over the framed awards, lingering a little too long over the ones that shined. “ORCA? Congratulations. I hear that’s very competitive.” She had no idea what ORCA was. And how many of these did Raisinwide have? Despite her earlier comment, Kettle had never actually been approached by them. They probably would beg, though, so… eh. She looked back at Sawyer. “Wingspan offers more tours than any other travel agency in Maine. Did you know that? We do, by a single tour. Not a coincidence.” She twisted her lips. “How many exclusions does Raisinwide have? One below them, and you offer more coverage than competitors. All you need is one less.” 

Kettle suspected they would be here for a while. She found she didn’t much mind the thought.

—

“Just me,” Sawyer answered with a wide grin. Easier to leave that old grouchy polar bear out of this and reap whatever rewards came of this partnership. She could handle all of the business dealings with Kettle. Maybe even earn enough extra money out of all this and build up her savings so she wouldn’t have to work at this stupid job. Do something much more fun with her life. 

“Oh, of course,” she replied. “I would never expect Wingspan Global to want any harm to befall their clients. ShroomState is all about putting the client first and keeping them safe and protected. Wouldn’t want to work with a business that didn’t hold those same values.” As if ShroomState itself wasn’t a scam. They offered the typical insurance packages like any of those other big national companies (looking at you, Progressive), but what made ShroomState popular in Wicked’s Rest was how it offered supernatural packages for those in the know. ShroomState offered all sorts of packages for people: from life insurance for gamblers who turned into guinea pigs to cars coming to life and eating people. But Sawyer didn’t really care much about any of that. She loved getting her paycheck and scaring people who stopped by the office. 

Which now that she thought about it, she liked that she didn’t feel like she needed to do much convincing with Kettle on the worms issue. No questions about what she could possibly mean by giant worm attacks. And even the idea of all worms excluded! Oh, she liked that. “See, that’s why we gotta brainstorm this list,” she said. “Can’t allow for any room for error with any of these.” 

Sawyer tilted her head and her grin turned into a sly smirk. “Oh, Lisey’s Peak! Have you been there? I bet your clients would love to visit that spot.” She scratched out the word giant from worm attacks and added Lisey’s Peak to her list. “Very scenic mountain! So many opportunities to see wildlife there.” She paused. “Friendly wildlife, of course! Wouldn’t have to worry about anyone tripping over a rock and falling off a cliff when the foxes there are so friendly. Might even come up to people and eat food right out of their hands.” 

Something about Kettle struck Sawyer as familiar. She couldn’t exactly put her paw on it, but chatting about all the possible exclusions for these silly humans reminded her of jokes passed between her and some of the bears she knew at the Chimera. The mention of birds caught her attention, and she considered how Kettle sat on her desk, almost perched up on the branch of an oak tree while Sawyer sat on a branch below her. “Oh, certainly birds. Many unique birds in this town that seem rather drawn towards humans,” she agreed. She tapped her pen against her notepad. “And we do have our own wolfpacks around here.” She hummed as she jotted down wolves and bears on the list. “Bears too,” she said, looking up to meet Kettle’s gaze. She leaned forward. “If you think it’s weird for wolves to roam these forests, just wait until you hear about the grizzlies and sun bears. Could be quite an adventure for your clients. All sorts of bears to encounter. Many are on Lisey’s Peak too.” 

If there were any compliment Kettle could grant the males of her species, it was that their plumage was rarely drab. She had never seen Emilio. Yet she knew, in her hungering heart of hearts, that he’d be greyer and more pathetic than a squab. He was probably just as delicate as one, too, should he fall from a great height.

Kettle opened the card she’d selected from the hundreds of droll, sanitized options. It had two bluebirds on the cover, and the artist had either never seen a female bluebird, or the birds depicted were gay. Inside it said “COME JOIN THE HAPPINESS”. Kettle huffed through her nose, then promptly tore the card in half and let both pieces drift to the dirty carpet. It was no wonder most people opted for customized wedding invitations. Really, this didn’t even matter. Her only plan was to send Emilio beautiful threats on beautiful stationary, because he apparently didn’t receive an invitation to his own wedding (a squab could become a better courier than a human mailman!) And Kettle would watch him read it, and she would laugh, and she would turn and there would be no one behind her to laugh with her, but for a couple of seconds before that, she’d enjoy it.

Kettle continued down the aisle. So many cards, and they were all terrible. So many people in town, and they, too, were all terrible. Someone else was leafing through the cards, and Kettle—as always—heard the pulse of opportunity. She approached, glancing at the card in the woman’s hand. “Half of these have worms on them,” she said, “I haven’t found a single decent card. What do you have there?” If the woman wanted it, Kettle did, too. “I couldn’t possibly give my future husband a card with worms on it.” Emilio loved worms too much. Like the beak of a robin, Kettle would snatch his joy away.

__

Lil had thankfully missed whatever the wedding nonsense was that had upheaved people’s lives around town. While she wasn’t against love in the general sense, Lil wasn’t exactly marriage material either. Still, it meant that she was getting a lot of people asking her to go to their weddings. She wasn’t quite sure if they had meant it as a ‘hey we’re excitedly getting together forever’ or ‘ can you spill red wine on someone's dress and ruin the day’ quite yet, but she had to at least show up with a gift right?

She was much more familiar with funerals, and had a stack of so many cards at home she had gotten in bulk - funny ones and sad ones if it had been a funeral Lil’s problems would have been solved - but of course she didn’t think any of the weddings were going to end up that way (or at least if they did she would have a few days hopefully to write out a sorry for your loss card). So when she went into the store she had gone to the already decimated pile of happy wedding cards. Apparently Lil wasn’t the only one affected this season. 

There were a lot of strange ones, but Lil just didn’t focus on them as she grabbed a few her headphones on as she then heard someone speaking to her. Looking up she tilted her head. “Uh yeah it’s worm season here. You know, they are pretty active right now. ” She didn’t add that half of those cards were for the worms, the tiny little ones that seemed to have pretty calligraphy on them. She was fairly certain the woman already wanted to yell and wouldn’t appreciate the fun fact. 

“Oh, are you one of the people getting married then? Wait, do you need a thank you card?” Lil said slightly confused with why she wanted any of her stack of happy nuptial ones. The ones in her had were of cats saying that it was a ‘purrfect match’ which while probably not true felt at least a little more happy than the ones that said ‘doomed together.’ 

“The ones I have are the ones you give the couple. The thank you cards are right behind you though. What’s your spouse like? I can help you find one,” Lil said calmly, hoping the other wasn’t too insistent. She needed six cards and she had exactly the six she needed.  

—

“One of the people?” Kettle scowled. People got married every day, but was it the case that others received invitations to their own sham weddings? “Who cares about the other ones? They don’t compare.” She could see now that the card the woman was holding was not a wedding invitation, but some kind of expression of gratitude card (can’t relate). “What use do you have for those? The ‘you should be thanking me’ cards are over here.” She gestured toward a single, short row on the stand. Kettle considered for a moment, then grabbed a few of them. You could never have too many of those.

Kettle knew explaining was a waste of time, but she could rarely resist answering a question, especially when it pertained to her future husband. She greatly looked forward to being a widowbird. “He’s an absent father, he hates birds, and when I’m with him, he’ll be fantasizing about worms. Some people are so flawed, can you believe it? I know, I know, I’m too good for him. But I think when we meet, I’ll see straight to his insides.” Kettle salivated and swallowed. “Anyway, I’m looking for invitations. One for him, because he’s just so forgetful—again, I know, he’s beneath me, and he’ll stay there!—and others for our guests. I have such a long list. And those cards need to be sent early if they’re going to reach everyone.” She had no idea where her flock was right now. They didn’t tell her when they flew from Eugene to Portland; would they even tell her if they left Oregon? She looked down at the ‘you should be thanking me' cards bent and crushed in her hand. Her grip went tighter instead of looser.

She gave the woman an equally tight smile. “There are other ways to send a message. I just like the idea of my name being written on it. He’ll think about me all the time.” Surely that was the point of the thank you cards, too—to make the recipient think about you, always.

— 

“Yeah apparently there were a lot of people who didn’t know they were getting married. Since you seem a little - annoyed about it all I figured you might be one, no offense meant,” Lil said trying to smooth it over slightly after she realized the other probably didn’t realize that she sounded mad about all of it. Maybe she just had that kind of tone about her. “Oh I just got invited to a lot of weddings so I’m sending them a happy nuptials card. I’m not thanking them or getting thanked yet card. I guess if they send nothing after I probably would.” Lil said finding the ‘you should be thanking me cards’ a little old fashioned all things considered. She hadn’t had to send one of those out since she was little and her mom’s friends hadn’t completed the thank you cycle. Maybe the woman in front of her was just more old fashioned then she was. 

“Oh - well that seems like a problem, I’m sorry to hear that,” Lil said, not quite sure how to make the other feel better or if she was really looking for sympathy. “Hopefully it works out and he’s not too bad. And invitations make a lot more sense. I know that there are some here. I get them for funerals all the time.” Lil said leaning around the other side of the woman to show her,  thinking that the wedding invitations had to be near the funeral ones if not the birthday ones. After all, all three seemed to come and go in a person’s life exactly when they wouldn’t have much time to get out an invite - at least with weddings now all happening near the same time now. “What kind of wedding invites are you looking for? Like what are your wedding colors?” She figured that despite her soon to be husband not being a particularly good fit he’d still let him pick out the colors. 

They had a great selection of cards here as Lil noticed some that even seemed to combine a wedding and a funeral. She might have to pick some of those up for later now that she realized some of the matches may not have ended up as a particularly great pairing. “There’s ones that have wedding threats in them, here if you look.” She said assuming that the woman was wanting to be a traditional bride based off of her previous card picks. “Maybe that can help you out? If your husband-to-be is acting weird? A traditional threat might be what he was waiting for.” Her own cards were still safely in her hand as Lil thought she probably wouldn’t be so traditional in her own wedding if she ever had one. 

—

“I’m annoyed at the cards.” Kettle shrugged off the mention that others were having surprise weddings. “This is different. Those weddings are nothing like mine.” Apparently, Kettle had a wedding expert standing in front of her. She’d been to plenty herself, from all different cultural backgrounds, but in most cases, the lovebirds liked or at least tolerated each other. This was different, unless Emilio surprised her and was actually a siren worthy of her attention (impossible; he was too fond of worms).

Kettle had no idea of Emilio’s wedding preferences, but that wouldn’t have changed her answers. “White, of course,” she said, “and some black, some red. Oh, don’t apologize. I’ll enjoy cracking him open and letting his inner beauty flow. He’s—what do people call it—a fixer-upper? A few sticks short of a nest?” She followed where the woman was pointing. Funeral invitations, birthday invitations, hole invitations and, ah, finally: wedding threats. That was exactly what she’d been looking for!

A black card caught Kettle’s eye. “Look at this one,” she said, holding it open so the woman could see. “You are invited to the funeral of my husband-to-be… too on the nose, actually.” Another card. “‘Til your death do us part.’ Too Christian. Oh, this one… ‘you can’t have an end without a beginning’. What do you think?” Kettle held this one up too, now. She had decided she’d consider the opinion of this woman, seeing as she’d pointed Kettle in the right direction. It was an honor. Maybe Kettle would get one of those ‘you should be thanking me’ cards for her. “He’s always acting weird. I think this might straighten out his feathers… figuratively speaking.” They’d probably always remain as bent as the worms he wanted to fuck.

Kettle took all of the cards available in the display and half-turned to walk out, but the woman’s presence behind her nagged at her senses. She turned back. “You have your cards, don’t you? Do you need my help?” Make that two ‘you should be thanking me’ cards.

—

Lil shrugged at the idea. She figured people got married for many reasons, some of them had to be for a wholly negative reason too. Maybe the other hadn’t been forced into a weird invitation to marry her betrothed, but still was crabby about it. It wasn’t as if Lil knew who it was either way - other than the man apparently liked worms and was an absent father. Maybe it wouldn’t be wrong to have a strong angry person in his life to push him to be better. She wasn’t sure if it would work for her, but she had seen plenty of people where it had worked for. 

Life was strange, and any ritual - for weddings to funerals - should expect that range. It was one of the reasons why Lil hadn’t ever balked at the customs of the town. Traditions were hardly something she personally cared about, but it soothed a lot of others. 

“Oh that’s a good mix of colors,” Lil said with a nod. She was fairly sure red and black went together with marriages and was one she saw a lot in the town. Granted they were more popular in the fall, but that wasn’t so uncommon. It also seemed to have been helpful to show her the wedding threat cards, so maybe Lil’s assumption of a traditional wedding had been right. Lil nodded through the letters and went, “That last one seems perfect for your wedding.” After all, threats were usually seen as a good motivator with stubborn people as much as kindness was and she would know her husband better than Lil would. Maybe he will change to be better. “You can only hope, or threaten, I guess.” 

She would have to let her mom know that people were still doing traditional threatening weddings. It would make June smile and scoff at the idea that the town really didn’t change but went through cycles. Love and hate weren’t so different if you looked at them at a society level, and while Lil hadn’t ever put much into the tradition - it was something that probably did work for people. 

At the offer Lil tilted her head, “Oh - I got mine, but I won’t say no to help.” She said figuring the other was more traditional than her and might see it as rude if she didn't help. She’d have to grab a card for her and her soon-to-be after she left if that was the case. She figured at least one sympathy card and one hopeful card. Her mom would know the best combination to send.  “I’m Lil by the way.” 

—

“Or kill,” Kettle added. “You can hope, threaten, or kill. Not that I would. But, you know, I could. If I felt like it.” She laughed. “We'll see how the threats go over, right?” She winked like it was a joke, because it was a joke to someone, Volkov and that disgusting spellcaster, and she'd end them for it the second she could, and make them suffer every minute before that.

“Kettle,” she offered Lil her name and a grin in return. “And I'll help you pick out the perfect card for me. You can bring it to my wedding.” Kettle had zero intention of actually wedding Emilio. But maybe she could keep up the charade long enough for a party and for people to send her gifts. “Those other ones are fine for other couples. Does that say you’re looking forward to solving the wedding party murder? Hm… why would the killer not want credit? How many weddings did you say you’re going to? Just take one of each.” She waved a dismissive hand at the displays. “Don't worry, I'll pay. It's been so wonderful meeting you, Lil. You have impeccable taste in wedding threats—you will have a lucky partner someday. I've been very disappointed in everyone else.” She glanced over at the register, where a tired 20-something didn't realize they were about to become enthralled. Kettle only paid with money if she intended to return to a store.