Pixie Dust, Friday

[ashockingbitch]

Jenny hated the world and everything in it. This week had been horrible for reasons she wasn't going into, and now she had to work. Ugh.

There was a hurriedly-scrawled sign in the window at Pixie Dust:

25% Additional Charge
For Bothering Me

The interior of the store was clouded with vast amounts of cigarette smoke, as Jenny was going through them at an alarming clip, even for her.

Shop at your own risk. Any purchases may need to be immediately dry cleaned to get the smoke out.

Pixie Dust is open.

Comments

[withoutverona]

It was quite possibly the wrong day for a cranky Romeo who was already regretting quitting smoking to decide to drop by the store to check on Jenny.

"Are you going to pay to have everything cleaned?"

... stupid, stupid boy.

[OOC; SP, but I could not resist.]

[ashockingbitch]

"Cleaned of what?" Jenny said blankly. "There's no dirt."

[withoutverona]

"Of the smoke," Romeo pointed out with exaggerated patience. "People who don't smoke find it unpleasant."

Though, from the deep breaths he was taking, he wasn't quite in that group yet himself.

[ashockingbitch]

Jenny shrugged. "That's hardly my problem, is it?"

[withoutverona]

"I'd rather it not become mine on Monday." Romeo thought about it, realized the store likely wasn't open next week. "A week from Monday."

[ashockingbitch]

Jenny lit another cigarette. "I'm sure it will have cleared out by then."

[withoutverona]

Arguing with Jenny was a bit like arguing with a stone wall -- if stone walls were hot girls with English accents -- and Romeo could only do that for so long before the futility started to grind him down. He rolled his eyes at her to show he was still annoyed.

"I'll make friends with Febreze if it hasn't," he promised. "... remind me why I gave up smoking to start with. I wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't."

[ashockingbitch]

"Buggered if I know," Jenny said. "I can't imagine doing a silly thing like that. So it's your own fault you're annoyed, really."

[withoutverona]

It had been something about lung cancer. The logic was escaping him, and his fingers were twitching toward her pack of smokes as several responses that he would not say in front of a lady, even on a short fuse, went through his head.

"Close the shop, Jenny." That was Romeo's I-am-so-the-boss-of-you tone. "Close the shop, open the windows a little, and maybe in two weeks you'll be fit to deal with customers again."

As much as either of them ever was.

"I won't dock your pay."