Something in her face must've told the little brats that she meant business, and half of them had fled, before she had a chance to open her mouth. Once she'd finished with a cold little diatribe, regarding manners and dignity, the other half were happy to join their erstwhile compatriots. That business finished, she turned to give him her attention.

"You'll be happy to know that we've just received a collection of dragonhide belts, in anticipation for autumn." In order to let him browse, she maintained a bit of a distance, busying her hands with neatening a stack of scarves, which, after having been pawed through all day, looked quite ready to tumble off its table. However, the dark head nodded toward the belts in question, only a small distance away. Her irritation was fading, especially in light of the possibility of receiving the magic word: a commission. There was no question that she could use it; attorney bills were piling up, after the long struggle in the courts, in regard to the legality of seizing her inheritance along with the rest of the Parkinson family assets.