Ada emerged into the gas station proper from the Stockrooms, where she had meticulously hidden her sword amongst the dry goods. She felt naked without her sword on her hip, but she did not wish to anger Management. They had sent out several memos explaining that employees were in fact not permitted to carry out the solemn duties of their shift while wielding fully automatic rifles or battle axes. Customers had complained. Management had been angered. Grave policies had been etched in stone and she had been temporarily disarmed by a pen wielding lawyer. 

She knew the workings of the strange clock that Management had seen fit to install. The clock could only generously be described as keeping an accurate count of time and Ada had begun to suspect that through some eldritch magic the clock revolved more slowly when an employee looking at it was on the clock and more rapidly when an employee had not yet punched in. She often marveled at the strange, alien powers that Management seemed to command. Where other employees despaired at the strange machinations of the company, Ada saw them as a challenge. A perennial series of obstacles for her to complete and quests to surmount.

To preserve her honor, Ada had thus made sure to clock in five minutes early. No one would judge her tardy if she could help it. She would not stain her reputation with unholy stain of slothfulness.

The newly minted Stock Room clerk had only managed some fifteen paces before she was interrupted by a booming voice and the familiar visage of the Earl of Pembroke.

"Sir William," Ada said, offering a quick bow.

The ghostly figure offered his own polite bow, no small feat in his mail hauberk and gambeson, "Sir Ada, what fool notion has possessed you to discard your weapon?"

"I have not discarded my weapon, Sir William, merely stored it for the moment."

"It is unseemly for a knight to be unarmed, Sir Ada."

"My Lord, I am afraid Management has been most particular. I cannot honorably refuse their most reasonable request."

"There are dark things at work here, Sir Ada. I can sense a great danger. Men of ill-repute and habit surround you. Monsters lurk in the shadows. Your must steel your sword and heart."

"Sir, I remain as ever ready to do battle in the defense of the weak and innocent."

"Well said, Sir Ada, well said," the ghostly knight said with a smile as he faded out of view with a nod of his wise head.

"Farewell, Sir William," Ada replied with a soft smile of her own.

"Phone call?" A customer interjected as he appeared next to Ada in a flurry of grime and the smell of old Doritos.

"Sure," Ada replied with a beaming smile.

"Say," The potbellied trucker began with a confused expression that suggested to Ada he was either deep in thought or close to having a fatal stroke. "Do you happen to know where I can find a copy of Big Booty—"

Ada interrupted the customer with a polite raising of her hand. She had spotted the Assistant Manager and one of her red vested comrades in arms. She had no time to discuss pornographic magazines with a customer. He would have to navigate the binary sea of pornography on his own. Ada resisted the urge to judge the man for his illicit request and readings. While no prude, she did not think that people still sought out their smut in print. The idea of the most honorable Gas-Way company stocking their shelves with vile pornography also struck her as unlikely.

"Forgive me, dear customer, but I must go speak to the Assistant Manager. No doubt he has received word from Management," Ada muttered leaving the customer shaking his head in her wake.

---

With the deft movements of a professional dancer, Ada ducked between departing customers, now sated in their lust for meat, and approached the counter where Rory and July. 

"Gracious Assistant Manager, I am at your service," Ada said, placing a hand dramatically over her heart as she bowed low.

The knight turned her gaze thoughtfully over July. She had not met him before, but she thought he seemed like a Jenn. She smiled briefly at his hideous visage before returning her full attention to the angelic Assistant-Manager who's divinity she felt certain stemmed from his close relationship with Management, "Respectfully, my Lord, I ask permission to address the pest problem plaguing the parking lot. I would not wish to see our customers injured or inconvenienced by the vile creatures that hide from the light."