Her shocked face told him she hadn't realized how obvious her behavior had been to him. Now he knew that she knew that he knew. But then she said it would take an hour–and even longer than that, if her timeline was to be believed. Did she truly want him to linger here that badly? Perhaps not, if she was suggesting he return later. Though the end of the day was near suppertime, which would have been an ideal time to have him come back where he could invite her to grab a meal nearby. Ah, so clever Miss Owens was!

Barnabas thought for a moment. He hadn't exactly planned out his day to fit that in... but he supposed he could make adjustments. He'd come this far, hadn't he? "Very well, Miss Owens," He said with a wink, "I will return near suppertime. Shall I place your order ahead of time so it's ready the moment you step through the door?" She'd had a long day working on her feet and dealing with customers, surely she'd appreciate not having to wait for a hot meal. Things had gone so well, that he pushed his luck and tried to guess what she'd request, "You look like you'd enjoy a hearty roast?"

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

This time Greer let her mouth fall with unabashed surprise. Just what was he playing at? She closed it once, then twice, truly at a loss for words. Supper? A hearty roast? He must have been drunk. Or having some sort of mental breakdown. Neither really explained the behavior, but she was very ready to be shot of him. Maybe it was the grief? Surely he was not attempting to flirt with her right now? Right? While he was ordering a cravat for his cousin's funeral?

The only response she could think of was the truth, "I will fortunately not be here, I get out earlier than the end of the day." Her day had started fairly early this morning and she was due to get out around three, if everything went according to plan. You know, if he left and let her get back to work. Right about now she'd use magic to help her get it done, as long as she got to avoid another confrontation like this. "But I will leave it at the front for you." All boxed up and ready to go.

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Greer has a noticeable Australian accent. I normally mention it, but fyi!

She wouldn't be here then? But... it rushed out of him before he could think it through, "I feel as if you're sending mixed signals, Miss Owens. Did you not just intentionally keep the proper fabric away because you wanted me to linger? And did you not just imply that you wanted me to return at supper to pick it up–presumably to meet up with you as well?" Barnabas's face was earnest, a rare expression for him particularly. What did this woman want from him?!

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

That solidified it. He must be insane. There was no other explanation. Greer actually laughed, loud and long at his line of thinking. "I have been nothing but direct, it is you who are clearly losing it." Her tone was flat, bordering on sarcastic now, hands across her chest. "I do not bring out scraps first, I offered you what was in fashion per what you requested, rather rudely, I might add." Lunatic. An utter nutter.

"And I do have a long embroidery project to finish. But since your cravat is for a funeral, I will make time to finish it before I leave. Which is earlier this afternoon. How in Merlin's name did you get a supper invitation out of that, you absolute nitwit?" Her accent was in full force now, as was the clear derision, with just a hint of disbelief.

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Greer has a noticeable Australian accent. I normally mention it, but fyi!

Barnabas was so taken aback that he even took a physical step back from her. Now his face was the one that was shocked. His mouth hung open, which was rather unfortunate for him, because that paired with his wide-set mouth meant he very closely resembled a gaping fish. She'd done a complete flip on him, and he was the one who was a rude nitwit?!

"You were smiling at me, for one!" He exclaimed bewilderedly. Feeling rather defensive, he began to recite his reasons, using his fingers to count for emphasis. "Two, you clearly knew you had this fabric in the back. And don't give me the scraps nonsense, you and I both know you were aware this was here the whole time–so clearly, three you kept me here longer than necessary on purpose." She looked as if she might interrupt so he continued a bit more loudly, "Four, you asked me to loosen my collar–" (at this he gave her a meaningful tilt of his head) "–Five and six - you asked me where I lived and then invited me to return at the end of the day." By now he was breathless, so he managed to quickly push out, "I couldn't possibly be the one who is a nitwit in this situation!"

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

Greer's eyebrows shot further and further toward her hairline with each of his enumerated pieces of "evidence."

They they furrowed when he turned her insult around on her. "Have you ever stepped foot in a seamstress before?" She was honestly curious. "One," she echoed his ridiculous scheme here. "I felt bad for you after you mentioned a funeral. I was ready to strangle you when you walked in." And she was again and this time she was far closer to doing it too. "Two, again, I didn't know the occasion until you mentioned it, so I decided to do something I don't normally do. And to be honest, I wasn't even sure there was anything worthwhile in the scrap bin, which also nullifies your "three." This whole thing was a giant waste of her time.

"Four, numbskull, how else am I supposed to get an accurate measurement for something that goes around your neck if I do it around your collar?" As if she wanted to get any closer to him that necessary. She shuddered at the thought. Honestly. "As for five and six, while you were off daydreaming about some random romance, I asked for your address so I could owl the cravat when it was done, so I could get you out of my hair. But you insisted on staying, which I most certainly did not want, hence I said you could come back later. After I left. Because I would like to be done dealing with you." Merlin's beard he was an idiot.

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Greer has a noticeable Australian accent. I normally mention it, but fyi!

Barnabas felt his cheeks grow hot as she barraged him. He supposed she had a point. There were clear explanations for each point he'd made, and now he felt rather idiotic for having brought it up at all. It didn't help that she believed he was an idiot–numbskull and nitwit, rather. He didn't quite know what to do with himself. It wasn't often that Barnabas was addressed so directly–especially not by a woman! She'd made her position clear enough and now he was at a loss. There would be no recovering from this.

He grimaced and swallowed, leveling his eyes at the wall to the left of her. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, her thoughts of him written all over her face. (How had he thought she was pretty only moments ago? Her chin was much too prominent for his liking.) Barnabas cleared his throat and rebuttoned his collar, "I usually see my tailor." As if that was an explanation. "It would be best if you did use that owl afterall." Chagrined, he scribbled the address of the boarding house he was staying at on the back of one of his business cards. He always kept a stash on him, just in case, though he'd never imagined it would be for this situation.

He nudged it toward her aross the table with one hand, and with the other he retrieved his poin curse from his breastcoat pocket. Barnabas had no idea how much it would cost–likely far less than the coins he'd poured into his hand–but he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible and would rather overpay than have her chase him down on the street for theft. "If that is all, then," He muttered as he set them on the table, ready to run out of the room as soon as she gave him the affirmative.

  

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

Greer didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for Mr. Skeeter or that look on his face now that the record had been set straight. Honestly. There was so little difference between what a tailor and a seamstress did (other than the specifics of the clothes) that even that flimsy excuse did not see her budging.

"Lovely, like I said, it will be done by day's end and I will send it out before I leave." He looked like a lost puppy with his tail between his legs, or a little like a child who hadn't gotten what they wanted. Or whatever it was he'd dreamed up in his head during their encounter. "That is all, you may go." Greer took the parchment with the address and measurements and pinned it safely to the fabric she intended to use, before stepping behind the till proper to take care of of the payment. She would send the change with the delivery later, along with the bill of sale. She wasn't a total monster.

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Greer has a noticeable Australian accent. I normally mention it, but fyi!