The shop door slams open, jamming the little bell and shaking the shelves. A small blonde in a denim vest and a baseball cap storms into the shop and heads for the counter, holding a hand up to forestall any questions. "I know, I can't just barge in here, who am I, blah blah. Listen, I've got two minutes to get into your basement and make some magic happen and you're not gonna like it if I don't get there in time. So, where is it? Also: coffee?" -anexcessofmuse's bridget
@anexcessofmuse
The work had been delicate, and any interruption to it to begin with would’ve been met with a surly shopkeeper. A delicate figurine of Scheherazade, needing a gentle touch and paint job before returning to her Sultan’s display to continue her stories. Molly’s glasses hadn’t been enough for the intricate job, so she’d been slowly watching through the magnifier as the tiny paintbrush trace the waves in her hair–
The paint jumped and smeared as Molly started with the intrusion, and after a moment’s shock, she gave an almost animalistic growl.
It didn’t matter who this person was, it didn’t matter what they wanted–the figurine would always matter more. “Coffee? You want coffee?” She snarled. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out of here on your ass! You’ve got ten seconds to haul ass before I call the cops.”