Her name did mean flower, but wasn't it obvious? She planned to bloom into the most delicate of little flowers, not a bustling businesswoman! Still, the prospect out outright telling him no—especially when he was doing a great job of entertaining her on this gloomy day—was less appealing than simply following his lead.

"Well, Mr. Fudge," she began, correcting her manner of address while she examined the new pebble placed in her palm, "tell me what plans you have for a bracelet factory. I doubt a handful of individuals, no matter how diligently they work, could make enough bracelets to make us wealthy."

(She could play pretend. Where was the harm in that?)

---

  

---

“Well,” Paxton began as he grabbed another pebble, “Miss Mulciber, first,” He nodded – placing his hand on his chin and looking thoughtfully into the sky, putting on the best business-man voice he could, “We shall advertise and people will buy them! And with that money, we will buy more pebbles to make more bracelets! And we can hire house elves,” Paxton nodded once again and turned back to face her, “then we will make them all! Or use magic to make more!”

He was going to be rich and by gosh golly as if it was Christmas, Paxton had a plan for the future.
For all of five minutes, at least.

---

  

Though her whims were usually indulged, she knew declaring to her parents that she intended to start a pebble-bracelet business with Mr. Fudge was likely to earn her more then a few side-eyed glances. That was, however, assuming such a plan would even be successful to begin with; while it sounded all fine and dandy, the specifics were bound to cause them, a pair of children, trouble once they had to handle the nitty-gritty details.

(Why was she even pondering this to begin with? It was silly!)

"Whatever will the bracelets do?" she asked as they begun to walk. Though her eyes scanned the sandy floor for the colorful pebbles, her attention was mostly on Mr. Fudge. "We much lure in unsuspecting customers with promises of grand beauty and charm. It's the only way," she teased.

---

  

---

“They…” Paxton frowned and looked out toward the sea and suddenly, as if by magic, an idea sparked to mind, “They will take you to the beach! Like a… a portkey!”

He wasn’t sure how much of an idea this was though it was one the young Fudge was finding himself to be beyond thrilled to be discussing with Miss Mulciber. How would he even approach his father with the idea? Could he?

Maybe he could run away with Flora and they could start their business themselves. Who even needed adults? All they did was tell him what to do! Do this, be that, stop letting the giraffes free. Annoying!

“That sounds like a good idea to me, Miss Mulciber. Does it you?”

---

  

Mr. Fudge's next works—portkey pebble-bracelets, as if!—was perhaps the least sensible thing that had left his mouth in the short few minutes they'd been speaking, prompting Flora to stare at him, mouth agape.

"That would never work, Mr. Fudge," she pointed out with a little tsk, tsk sound. "I don't believe any woman would wish to be spontaneously brought to the resort while showing their bracelet to their friend, and neither do I believe any attempt to make such a thing would get past the Ministry."

Of course, she was eleven, and presumably knew very little about the actual laws. That didn't, however, make his idea sound any less ridiculous in her mind!

---

  

---

Paxton crossed his arms and stamped on the ground. How dare she try to say his idea wouldn’t work! Of course it would! It was the best idea ever! Portable portkeys in bracelet form that had nice pebbles! It was fool-proof and made the most sense of any invention he’d ever seen invented!

“Yuh-uh, it would!” He huffed, “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first. And anyway, I don’t see you having any ideas! You’re just being annoying and telling me why my ideas are bad when they are not!”

---

  

Flora stopped in place and crossed her own arms over her chest, effectively mirroring him.

"May I remind you that I suggested the pebble-bracelets to begin with?" she asked, brows as high on her forehead as she could manage intentionally. "None of it would work anyways. We're- Well, at least I'm only eleven. Eleven-year-olds don't become successful business moguls."

She never claimed to be the epitome of rational thought, but he made her like like it!

---

  

---

“This one does!” Paxton stamped his foot harder and cross his arms… more? She was not going to out-pout him! Nope!

“And that doesn’t count! A hedgehog can come up with that! I think you are just jealous that I’m smarter than you and thought of it first. Pebble Portkey Bracelets by just Paxton Fudge! You won’t see any of my money!” He furrowed his brows once again, glaring at her.

---

  

He made it oh-so-tempting to fire insults right back at him, but she swiftly reminded herself that she was a lady. Ladies did not bicker with other children for silly reasons, especially not silly boys with few manners!

"You are free to your beliefs, as am I," she responded calmly and without a hint of malice, "and if you so desire to pursue a business out of our idea—" Emphasis on the our. "—I would rest happy that I helped another discover their life's ambitions." Perfect and cordial, just like she'd been taught.

---

  

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Paxton glared and mumbled under his breath, his stature ever-stoic; feet firmly on the ground, arms locked in place, “My idea.”

Girls were irritating. Why did they have to exist? They were weird, looked funny, annoying, and downright rude.

“And anyway, I don’t see you with any ambitions. All I see is a rude girl being rude and mean and thinking she is smarter then me when she isn’t”

Stupid girls.

---

  

Ugh, he was being rude, and it was so so so sooo hard to stop herself from making a comment under her breath.

"I have ambitions, but I'm quite positive they differ from yours," she responded, trying to keep any defensiveness out of her tone. "And it's not a matter of intellect, but rather of sensibility." Hmph.

---

  

---

“Then you’re not sensible either!” He huffed once again, though quite a bit louder. His expression was fixed in this sort of permanent kind of glare that could only be described as a crumpled up sheet of paper with an angry face drawn on it.

“Why are you so annoying, Miss Mulciber? I had a great idea and you had to be mean about it!”

---

  

He just kept pushing. She tried to envision what her mother would do—besides walk away, that was. That was too easy, and with her luck would result in having insults yelled at her as she meandered off.

"A sensible man knows not to be so hasty in his decision-making," she said flatly. "And a sensible woman knows not to encourage a man's hastiness." It sounded like something she'd read right out of one of her governess-ordered textbooks, and it probably was, in all reality.

Not that Mr. Fudge would know based off his behavior.

---

  

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Paxton had had enough and stamped his foot forcefully against the floor, throwing his arms down and pouting angrily, “I am not hasty!” He practically shouted at her.

Ugh, she was irritating him! He hated girls!

“I’m going to tell father and get you kicked out of the resort! You’re being mean!”

---

  

Had he any manners? Flora stood frozen in place, gaping at him at he shouted at her in the middle of a public place. The secondhand embarrassment (she personally had nothing to be embarrassed about!) caused a flush to rise on her cheeks, and she glanced around nervously while she contemplated how weak she would look if she scurried off.

"Mr. Fudge," she began, voice wavering, "please calm down. It's not really that important—certainly nothing to argue about on the shore!" Among her other responses were "have some sense!" and "surely you can't be that silly", but she'd decided against both after realizing those too would likely lead to yelling.

---

  

---

Paxton had nothing to say in response to her request. Of course he wasn’t calm! She was being downright mean and beyond rude. And for her to say it wasn’t important!? Yes it was! Ugh!

Paxton frowned toward her and threw his arms in the air once again before returning to his cross-armed sulk, “Fine but I’m right. You’re just being mean. Why are you even here?”

His ‘here’ was obviously meaning the Sanditon resort but he was too annoyed to try and be specific, his angry expression fixed in place.

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