Pause. "I didn't realize that. And – thanks to some kids, I think, not so much me."

He beams to himself and dismisses her, the words they have protectors echoing after him.

"You know he's nuts, right?" the guard mumbles (loud enough to be heard over heavy machinery). "Bet he doesn't break mirrors or let black cats cross his path, either. Buildings don't stand or fall because of some stupid doll. I've worked plenty of jobs without dolls and without problems. It's just a coincidence."

She nods. "I know about coincidence, but – I mean," she shrugs, "it was still addressed to him and he seems happy to receive it."

"Sure," the man shrugs, and delivers her back to the entrance.

"Have a nice day," she responds, and then goes back to her vehicle to proceed.

The next delivery is to an isolated little house, much like the Happy Acre Orphanage. Signs like "BEWARE OF DOG" and "NO SOLICITORS" and "NO TRESPASSING" and "someone really needs to chillax" (or that's what the bells say) greet Rachel.

She grabs the appropriate box and goes towards the door, carefully, wary of dog.

The woman who answers the door looks suspicious from the get go. Rachel's clearly unexpected, and judging from the rustle at one of the closed sets of curtains as she walks up to the door, this unexpected visitor has been watched very carefully likely from half a mile away. Plenty of open space in the Outlands. Plenty of distance to see potential risks from.

"We didn’t order anything," the woman says right away.

She peers at the house number.

"It's addressed to this building?"

"We didn't order anything," the occupant repeats, as if it's a magic mantra.

"… Not even a teddybear?"

"You think I'm not onto you?" the woman insists. "I read the Department of Safety warning. 'Don't accept unsolicited toys.' They may have anthrax or bombs in them! You turn right around and get back on your truck and get out of here. I'm friends with the local sheriff and he can be here within—"

"Mommy, what's that?"

A young voice, from down the hall. So, the bear has an intended recipient after all.

"Teddybear delivery," says Rachel, showing the box.

Works like a charm. An adorable golden curled moppet smoothly worms her way around the goalkeeping mother and snatches the box from Rachel's hands with fierce strength.

"Aaaaa! She's so cute!" the girl declares, starry-eyed. "The box says 'Janette.' Is this Janette? You are Janette the Bear and you are my friend! Hooray!"

With that the battle's lost, and the mother knows it. Forcefully yanking the supposedly anthrax-stuffed bear away from her daughter would result in a nightmare domestic disturbance. With eyes of angry spite, she glares Rachel down in response to her shenanigans.

"… I swear it doesn't have anthrax or bombs in," to her knowledge, "but I do need you to sign here."

She signs, and glares, and slams the door.

Friendly. So friendly.

Rachel continues on her way.

The next few deliveries are considerably less threatening, but no less strange. 

Three o'clock, a dentist's office. This is a strangely freestanding cluster of offices in the middle of nowhere, a building which would've made more sense in the middle of the city than in the middle of the Outlands; she has to navigate a maze of hallways and elevators to find the exact delivery location. Inside, a disinterested receptionist points out that she didn't order a teddy bear (of course) but at least she doesn't turn the gift away. It goes in the waiting room toy pile, along with building blocks and thick cardboard books from the seventies. Hopefully a child would eventually find little Bobby the Bear in that mess.

Four o'clock, an automobile factory. Not too many garages got copied over from Earth, and annexing (not "stealing") cars for resale means going through the Department of Resources for a dodgy second-hand vehicle. Outlands are perfect for building local jobs and transport. Although a factory full of robot arms and guys smelling like engine oil is hardly an appropriate destination for a teddy bear, Rachel nevertheless leaves Louie-Louie the Bear with the confused-looking guard at the factory gate. Having no idea what to do with it, he says he'll see if anybody in the factory wants it.

Five o'clock, dinner. Too far away from Melba's. Fortunately the next rest stop down the road has a drive-through.

Six o'clock, a shipping warehouse for an online retailer, and things get even weirder. "Place the bear in the third open box you find." The guard asks a few questions but is easily distracted with a couple of excuses, and thankfully the third box isn't too far from the front office. And so, Destructinator the Awesome Bear (as his box declares) ends up shipped to someone who was ordering replacement razor blades and vitamins. Pushing luck, pushing what made any sense at all, but...

Seven o'clock.

And if there was a tipping point, it'd be this. Because it made less sense than any of the others.

Put Daniel the Bear underneath the fifth tree at mile marker 5.4 along Interstate 37. Open the box and walk away.

Oh well. She'd probably consider doing weirder things on someone else's say so, and it's – quite clearly weirdly designated.

Pause.

Except it was that cute bear from that cute kid who was very particular to make sure the bear wouldn't be alone.

Ugh ugh ugh.

She really hopes there's a good reason for this.

Clouds are brewing tonight, threatening a rainstorm later. Even if she goes against orders and seals Daniel's box shut, the package will be soaked and ruined.

And soon she reaches the spot.

Ugggggh.

Okay well the kid probably does not know what she's doing with the bear at least until she goes and talks to him, and feels super guilty and doesn't tell him anyway because she'd be a horrible person but prefer that to actually upsetting him, and Grandma Scarlett might have some actual reason for it to be placed here like it being picked up later… or at least might be able to track it…

So she does in fact place the bear down under the fifth tree at the mile marker and – realizes her last delivery is for 9pm and decides to sit in her truck for a bit.

Ten minutes in and the bear in the distance hasn't gotten up and walked away.

No, she wouldn't have expected it to.

She can probably wait a bit longer – she checks on her map app how long it'll take her to get to the 9pm delivery and works it out.

Twenty minutes and nothing. Clouds getting thicker. Even if it's not going to rain, this is looking like it'll be one gloomy as hell day.

Twenty-five minutes in...

A car had pulls up to the 5.4 mile marker.

She has to strain to see in the setting darkness of the night, but... immediately a kid bursts forth from the car, like a cork from a popgun. Judging from the wiggling and panic, he's doing the Pee Pee Dance. The nearest rest stop is miles and miles away... doing your business behind the nearest tree at the side of the road would do just as well as a proper bathroom. (gotta go gotta go too much lemonade)

His father chases after him, less hurried, although likely eager to get back to the road. Mother waits in the car.

Two minutes later, and the kid has a much more leisurely and relieved stroll back to the car.

With a teddy bear under his arm. One he just happened to find during this completely random roadside picnic.

Bear, boy, and father get back in the car and drove away. Daniel the bear has found a home at last.

Ah-huh.

Okay well that's not her fault and she's going to get to her next job and let Grandma Scarlett know about it if she asks.