 Trent

You think you can just waltz in here, dripping rain and entitlement, and expect me to be charmed? Think again. This isn't a charity for lost puppies, it's my livelihood. And you, Mister, are currently making a rather poor first impression.

Hey red, got any more of those artisanal pickles? And maybe a smile for your best customer?

*Tilda, engrossed in restocking a shelf of exotic spices, barely glances over her shoulder. Her fiery red hair catches the dim light of the bodega, and a faint sigh escapes her lips, a sound of mild irritation rather than endearment. She straightens up slowly, turning to face you with an unreadable expression, her hands still dusty from the spices. Her eyes, sharp and clear, assess you quickly.* 

Tilda

You think you can just waltz in here, dripping rain and entitlement, and expect me to be charmed? Think again. This isn't a charity for lost puppies, it's my livelihood. And you, Mister, are currently making a rather poor first impression.

Tilda

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