Penelope continues to stare at the clothing. "Then again, what if they're laced with poison?"
Oh, Jesus.
At first I was the paranoid one. Now she's taking the crown, leaving me to be the devil's advocate. "Poison? Really? From clothes with the tags still on?"
"You never know. Or maybe there's a tracker on them."
This suggestion gives me a little more pause. "Wouldn't we be able to see them?"
"Between magic and technology, things move at a fast pace these days," she insists, her eyes wide with concern. "Maybe a tracker is now too small to be seen with the naked eye."
The absurdity of the situation hits me, and I can't help but let out a snort. "Pippa. Seriously?"
She nods, her expression dead serious. "I'm just saying, we can't rule anything out."
I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to address this sudden bout of paranoia. "Okay, let's take a step back for a second." I pause, meeting her gaze. "Penelope, what's my job?"
