Pfft, Charley scoffed, blowing the air out of her mouth in a scowling retort. She was already being too nice, standing around just waiting for her ticket like a by-your-leave. What else did the copper want from her? A bow and a thank you for the gift of a ticket and sore wrist? "Don't gotta insult me, I can read just fine!"

Those blasted flowers! They'd gotten her into more than enough trouble today, and now Charley would have to explain it all to Mrs. Mann as well. She'd sooner pay a hundred galleon fine than have the shop-witch breathing down her neck.

The urchin snatched the ticket from the man, still writing or not. She didn't like the idea of owing anyone, and liked less the idea of having her word picked apart by some quill-driver from the uppity side of town. He wasn't down here with the muck, getting stiffed for tips and scrounging for scraps of food. A scowl lurked at the edge of her polite facade, growing like a shadow across her face. If only she could cast it like a spell on the copper instead, or on the flowers still lying forlorn and nearly forgotten on the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, you want your sickles, cash on the nail, I got it," Charley spat out, unamused by the copper's dawdling. She could have found a better bite to scrounge by now, or a pocket to pick. It wasn't like any of those coins were going to the constabulary now.

The urchin huffed as she shook the spit off her hand, swooping down to snatch the bouquet of flowers before she left. How could a copper who didn't even know the rules of the streets expect an honest word anyway?

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