Quoted By:
>Answer truthfully.
“Yeah. course you are. I already knew. Haha. Name’s Dahlia. Friend of Zacharie’s.”
Dahlia flicks the remaining cigarette into the cold hard ground, and stomps it into the heel of her boot. It leaves a dark murky trail smeared underneath her foot. She looks you up and down, once over, twice over, and goes to grab something from behind the block she was leaning against.
“Yeah, run your pockets. I got some good shit to sell you.”
Through grunted huffs she pulls up a large duffle bag, filled to the brim with oddities and obscure treasures. She lugs it over her shoulder with a heave, and her forehead is strained with wrinkles as she carries it over to you. Her footsteps are heavy and slow, but eventually, she lugs the thing over to you and it slams to the ground. She dusts herself off, pounces on it, and gets to work ruffling through the oblong bag. Roughly, she spits out a speech she clearly prepared but didn’t memorize.
“See, Zacharie is a wise guy. Shopkeepers like him flake when the medium changes. And his advice? Don’t get me started about that. Guys trying to circle a square. Now girls like me, we adapt. You can shadowbox the whims of random strangers for as long as you like, but Zacharie’s sales are valued in hindsight. Me? I live in the now.”
You have some trouble following along. She looks up, and it’s apparently obvious on your face, because she looks at you like you're the dumbest thing alive.
“What, you think there’s only one shopkeep around here? Only one official one, but if you only stoop for the lowest hanging fruit, you're gonna get apples covered in dirt. I’m unofficial, I’m edge.”
She stands up, and presents you with your options.
“Don’t worry about credits. You’ve got a pre-paid plan, haha.”
