He received only a modest, though eloquent, shrug, in response to his pronouncement. She followed him back to the counter, and began ringing him up, nimble fingers displaying their familiarity with the old-fashioned, elegant Muggle contraption. "Cash registers," she'd heard them called, but couldn't fathom what cash was... Doubtless some mindless Muggle parlance. The currency dropped into the till with metallic thuds, her mouth working quietly. Math had never been her strong point.
"It does, Montague, but I'm not obligated to speak of the particulars with a newfound acquaintance," she drawled, channeling a bit of Draco in her speech. There may have been an emphasis on the way she spoke his last name; emphasizing, no doubt, his familiar use of her given name, and conversely, her use of his family name. Perhaps she had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, about people who spoke so flippantly about what had long been a thorn in her side (namely, the fact that she had to seek employment). It was easy enough to play off, when one was good at one's job, and Pansy did like clothes... "How goes the Quidditch season?" she sidestepped neatly, folding his belts and wrapping them with tissue paper emblazoned with the T&T logo. She dropped them into the bag, and then handed it to him.
The clock read that the workday was nearly over. Around them, other shopgirls began the process of closing down the store. Grateful that she was a little higher in the store's hierarchy, and thus exempted from that onerous task, she leaned a hip against the counter and waited for a response.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 01:25 am (UTC)"It does, Montague, but I'm not obligated to speak of the particulars with a newfound acquaintance," she drawled, channeling a bit of Draco in her speech. There may have been an emphasis on the way she spoke his last name; emphasizing, no doubt, his familiar use of her given name, and conversely, her use of his family name. Perhaps she had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, about people who spoke so flippantly about what had long been a thorn in her side (namely, the fact that she had to seek employment). It was easy enough to play off, when one was good at one's job, and Pansy did like clothes... "How goes the Quidditch season?" she sidestepped neatly, folding his belts and wrapping them with tissue paper emblazoned with the T&T logo. She dropped them into the bag, and then handed it to him.
The clock read that the workday was nearly over. Around them, other shopgirls began the process of closing down the store. Grateful that she was a little higher in the store's hierarchy, and thus exempted from that onerous task, she leaned a hip against the counter and waited for a response.