6 February 1892 — Dervish & Banges

It was a Sunday, and although Dot's business didn't necessarily always run on a consistent weekly schedule she had no appointments today. She'd decided to take the opportunity to run errands, the first of which on her list was checking in on the repair of an enchanted item she'd owned for a while. It was one of a kind (at least to her knowledge; she'd never found another like it), so she had expected that fixing the charmwork on it would take some time and effort, but she was determined to have it back in her possession as soon as possible all the same. It wasn't something she used with every client, but often enough that the lack of it was a major inconvenience to her practice. It was also a rather sensitive item — what she described it doing to her clients was not what it actually did, necessarily, but a slight equivocation never hurt anyone.

When she'd arrived at the shop the clerk was busy with another customer, so she decided to take a turn about and see if anything new caught her eye. Dervish and Banges didn't often have things that were useful to her, but there were almost always things that were interesting, so it was never a poor use of her time. She hadn't taken a turn halfway around the shop yet when she spied a familiar face, however.

"Dear Lissington," she said warmly, as she eyed the trinket he'd had in his hands. "Whatever could you want with an enchanted ring? It's not your style at all," she joked — the ring was clearly for a woman. "And I don't think it would suit your mother, either."

---