The Crisco was slipping. That was about the only thought flitting across Archie's mind as he approached the empty checkout lane and clumsily dumped his groceries at the end of the counter. This was supposed to have been a short shopping trip, cookie baking supplies for Alek and that was all, but his purchases had multiplied until they contained a load of more random items like pretzels and ginger ale and pudding cups and way more cheese than was strictly necessary for anyone.
"Sorry," he said to the checkout girl. She was... interesting. He pulled off his hat and tucked it under his arm, feeling oddly disrespectful now that he was actually speaking to another sentient being. His gloves he left on as he rearranged his cans, boxes and bottles on the whirring conveyor belt.
Interplanetary Criminal Relocation Service
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