"So I am. The rules, as per the bank's own agreement with the Grand Galactica, which predates yours by at least five decades, clearly state that issuing salaries to artists currently engaged hinges on authorization by one of two individuals. One of whom is bumped off and the other mysteriously vanished. You see the problem? It's a legal twist, it is. Heavy on the legal. My, I'll be good and plucked if I can remember a problem like this."
She tapped her chin in thought and looked quite relieved. Which was fitting for a bank manager, and therefore annoying.
"With respect, Ma'am," Zana said, exercising admirable restraint. "The Grand Galactica is hardly some little joint in the corner of a back alley! They're good for the money aren't they?"
The owl lady nodded as if it was a point of personal pride. "Never defaulted once, not in all the years we've done businss. Exemplary record. Enjoys the bank's complete confidence. And you can quote me on that."
"So what's the problem?" Rivqua burst out. "Their credit's good enough to be printed on a kitchen magnet. All's well then, right? Will you please be kind enough to give us our advance!"
"It has nothing to do with credit," she said, producing a tablet from somewhere within the folds of her feathery bulk. "Confidentially speaking, it's all about actual, tangible, bankable funds." Her small beak cracked into a brief smile.
She started tapping and scrolling for information. "Let's see, artist name, Blonde Plutoz. Advance, one third. Just like you said, very good. Eight week booking, excellent. Might get a ticket myself." Another silly little smile.
"You got it all there!" Zana exclaimed like they were wasting of time. "What's the holdup!?"
The big owl lady scrolled and tapped away. "Aha! Just as I thought!"
"What!?"
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