He didn’t look best pleased with her, but that was a fact that would surprise no one. And still, he was resolving to be helpful! (She assumed; if she had worked here, she might’ve taken a great deal of pleasure in sending customers she didn’t like off with rotten chocolates, although that was perhaps not a sturdy business model. Lucky for her, then, that she had not been born to be a shopgirl.)

“Lucky for me indeed,” Phyri echoed sweetly - well, if not for the shark-grin on her face. “I can send them off to her right away,” she told him, and then, feigning ignorance (and maybe baiting him, just a little), “after all, I suppose it doesn’t matter if the owl roughs them up a bit on their way. They’ll still taste the same, won’t they?”

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