Now, that just wouldn't do. Charley's nose pinched, freckles bunching together in a splotch of orange, shooting her own glare right back at the other girl. She had a horse's face but a mule's stubborn streak, and that couldn't be good for anyone's health. Not that it mattered much to the urchin, who could have laughed herself silly at the horseface girl's proclamation.
Right up until ol' Horseface drew herself up a mighty few inches taller, like she was hiding it before. Ashamed or something, maybe trying not to draw all that much attention. That was something Charley could have understood, just not the words spitting out of the foul girl's mouth. Even from a few feet away, the heat of them was hard to mistake, and the urchin was hardly one for making mistakes of that sort.
Kicking off the wall where she'd been leaning, one foot up to scrape against the mortar between the bricks, Charley closed the distance between the two girls. She could see just fine with her head craned back, the finger that tipped her hat up just a bit was only to make the action more deliberate. The dramatic flair, as Dad might have put it once. From this angle, the urchin could almost see right up through the haughty girl's nose, and her glare again met the one crashing down from those black pits of eyes.
Charley sniffed, just to see if she could make the girl blink.
"Different, it is," she dared, and Charley could almost see her own nostrils flare. No one was about to intimidate her, she wasn't scared. Not the least for a horsefaced girl with too little sense to see the the truth right in front of her eyes. How anyone could think that the Florist Potts —and what sort of corny name was that, anyway?— was the finest florist in Hogsmeade was baffling. Pure hogwashery, and not the sort that was owed little more than a tut-tut. It was plain and simple to Charley, the brazen bit o' crumb was just dead wrong.
"Anyone worth their salt knows the best's at Montague's," the urchin put a thumb in the air, pointed back down the street towards her place of employment. Surely the other girl had heard of Montague's House of Flowers, for all her years there was hardly any excuse. Especially if she thought the huffy Pottses were the best Hogsmeade had to offer.
Except it wasn't a Potts in front of her, so Charley thought there could be a chance to win a new customer. She could be a picture of grace, too, as much as it pained her to weather the slander in the meantime. "Every flower and vine's a sure smile, and that's a promise!
With a hand clasped over her heart, Charley grinned as cheerily as she could, loosing her gritted teeth to show off their gleam, just as pretty as a plant from her shop would be.
Right up until ol' Horseface drew herself up a mighty few inches taller, like she was hiding it before. Ashamed or something, maybe trying not to draw all that much attention. That was something Charley could have understood, just not the words spitting out of the foul girl's mouth. Even from a few feet away, the heat of them was hard to mistake, and the urchin was hardly one for making mistakes of that sort.
Kicking off the wall where she'd been leaning, one foot up to scrape against the mortar between the bricks, Charley closed the distance between the two girls. She could see just fine with her head craned back, the finger that tipped her hat up just a bit was only to make the action more deliberate. The dramatic flair, as Dad might have put it once. From this angle, the urchin could almost see right up through the haughty girl's nose, and her glare again met the one crashing down from those black pits of eyes.
Charley sniffed, just to see if she could make the girl blink.
"Different, it is," she dared, and Charley could almost see her own nostrils flare. No one was about to intimidate her, she wasn't scared. Not the least for a horsefaced girl with too little sense to see the the truth right in front of her eyes. How anyone could think that the Florist Potts —and what sort of corny name was that, anyway?— was the finest florist in Hogsmeade was baffling. Pure hogwashery, and not the sort that was owed little more than a tut-tut. It was plain and simple to Charley, the brazen bit o' crumb was just dead wrong.
"Anyone worth their salt knows the best's at Montague's," the urchin put a thumb in the air, pointed back down the street towards her place of employment. Surely the other girl had heard of Montague's House of Flowers, for all her years there was hardly any excuse. Especially if she thought the huffy Pottses were the best Hogsmeade had to offer.
Except it wasn't a Potts in front of her, so Charley thought there could be a chance to win a new customer. She could be a picture of grace, too, as much as it pained her to weather the slander in the meantime. "Every flower and vine's a sure smile, and that's a promise!
With a hand clasped over her heart, Charley grinned as cheerily as she could, loosing her gritted teeth to show off their gleam, just as pretty as a plant from her shop would be.
![[Image: bZbZdaH.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bZbZdaH.png)