"Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose..."

The treble notes floated from an urchin's mouth, one that could do more than just spit and snark. She stood leaning against the building's facade with one foot pressed against its sturdy bricks, singing audaciously into the throng of passersby. There was little care in her heart whether they were serving as a proper audience or not, just so long as the words reached their ears in front of The Florist Potts shop.

"Shall I ever see thee red?"

If not for how many times she'd sung this ditty, Charley might have grinned, knowing what came next. The words weren't exactly right now, she'd repurposed the tune and first line for her deeds, to serenade the customers of her employer's rival business.

"Withered blooms and thorny clumps,
Naught green shall spread."

Charley started again, singing to a whole new set of ears by now. Her fingers worked idly on the petal in her hands, prying apart the soft material between its veins. She scooped up another when it was done, they fell every so often from the plants and bouquets in the hands of customers walking past. Just another reason why Montague's was superior, naturally.

Of course, pointing that out just got her shooed away by the onerous shopkeeper and her daughters.

Nobody likes a critic, but everyone likes a song. So the urchin kept her song going until she spied the odd-faced witch striding purposefully for the shop. A girl, she realized looking again, maybe a few years older from the hair and her skirt hems. For a moment, Charley sized her up, looking for weak spots. Young people, especially young girls, were much more gullible. Which meant they made far better marks for her than even the richest geezer with galleons spilling from his mouth.

"Yer not planning on goin' in there, are ya?" she asked casually from the side of her mouth. Charley had decided against trying to trick or run into the girl, whose dress wasn't quite as fine closer-up. If there were only knuts to be had, they were better off spent at Missus Crouch's shop instead. She tossed her capped head toward the window, where the nicest plants and flowers were shown off.

"That shop's but a wilted corner of nature's abandoned garden," the urchin muttered derisively, "Wouldn't you say, Miss?" She smiled warmly, an act but one she'd found convincing for certain types. And this older girl sure did seem like a type. "Now, if yer after pretty petals as'll stay fresh 'til long after yer back home...I know just the spot."

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