Beyond the World We See

glmstr

glmstr

Magus
Day broke over Kansas City, whether or not the city's residents wanted it to. Golden wheat fields and pale green seas of grass swayed in a gentle breeze, soaking up the warm sunlight alongside stone and steel buildings. People and animals alike stirred, and many of Bluefort's residents were beginning their day, some had already started to work. One thing most of them shared, across all walks of life, was they turned on the radio, some in the car, others on their computers, some still using a dedicated machine to hear their morning companion.

The familiar jingle played, and next came the voice of Dick Haymeier, the local radio host.
"Good Morning Bluefort!

"It's Friday, March 10th, 8 in the morning, 8:05 to be exact, and the sunrise looks great from the studio. I would have been on time, but the darn coffee pot went on the fritz, had to run across the street and grab something from the Starbucks. Bless their hearts for being open as early as they are. They must be ready for the weekend, I know I sure am! Now, so I don't waste everyone's time too much, I've got two announcements to make before we go back to our music for the day.

"Do you like magic? Do you want to be a great like Harry Houdini, David Blaine, David Copperfield or Criss Angel? The Tattered Page bookstore is having a demonstration of some of the simplest card tricks to even some of the most advanced techniques, and magicians' guides and materials are on sale today!

"The Leaky Tab is having happy hour today from 6-7, and half-off wings with your first drink.

"Courtesy of our HR and Psychology adviser, your lucky numbers today are 5, 36, and 12. Now for today's music. I've been on a bit of a 90's kick lately, so here's I Want You, by Savage Garden to start us off today."

 
The old radio buzzed into action, and Oscar didn't even need to touch the dial to adjust the channel to get it to his favourite channel. He smiled at the mere sound of the radio host's voice, having always found it comforting even on the days that were set up to be horrible. He stood, sipping a glass of water behind the glass shop counter, observing all the jewellery on their cushioned stands. The sign on the door was still turned to closed, though it was meant to be turned to open at eight. Oscar had been a bit too preoccupied with organising the display to turn it at that time, but now he went to the door and flipped the sign over. Oscar's own beautiful calligraphy read 'Come in, we're open' in black, intricate, looping letters.

The jeweller went back behind the counter, still sipping at his water. He set the glass on the wooden counter behind him, sitting down on the old plastic chair that was already in the house when he bought it. It made a sound like a hob being turned on - crack crack crack pop - and was a few days away from its deathbed. He sighed at the thought of having to track down someplace that could make a chair, and decided to leave it for later. He turned his attention back to the radio, staring at all the different jewels glitter. He smiled at the mention of happy hour. Despite preferring to stay indoors, this was special. It was the one month anniversary of opening his jewellers. In that time, he had sold two rings (one diamond and one emerald), a golden necklace, and an incredibly flashy pair of ruby and diamond earrings. He had also repaired two rings. He certainly had the money to go out drinking, but he didn't have the friends. Well, was there really anything wrong with drinking alone?

He sighed and leant back on the cracking chair. He closed his eyes, listening to the lucky numbers. He turned his attention to the display again, primarily to numbers five, thirty-six and twelve, that sat nearby all the other displays, of which there were fifty or so. They were an amethyst ring with a silver band, a pearl necklace and a pair of gold and diamond earrings, respectively. Curious to what would happen, he stood up and opened up the display with the key he always held on him. He took number five and moved it, along with number thirty-six and twelve, to the front of the display, adjusting everything else accordingly. He smiled at his work, closed the display back over, and then sat down, listening to the music.
 
David O'Connor's red pickup truck had already been on its last leg when he got it. The air conditioner never worked, the door only locked if you stabbed the key in with enough force to create a whole new keyhole, and the engine rumbled ominously. But hey, the radio worked fine.

He was halfway through the drive to work when Dick Haymeier's voice greeted him. David had actually taken to timing his commute so it coincided with Dick's broadcasts. They were the best source of news he had available to him, and in a community of this size, it paid to be in the loop. Today he made note of happy hour at the Leaky Tab, promising himself a plate of wings and just one drink later on tonight. He should be off work by four, easy. Business was a little slow at the wood shop right now. He was just repairing a couple of old cabinets for and old man one town over. Honestly, if the task kept him busy through the afternoon he'd be impressed.

He brushed off the news about the magic demonstration at first, but tuned back in again when Dick mentioned the sale on guides and materials. If he wasn't mistaken, some of what constituted magic materials were just wooden boxes with hidden compartments. Learning to make something new wouldn't be a bad way to pass the time, and if this magician thing turned out to be popular he might even find a way to make money off it. He mentally added the Tattered Page to his day's itinerary.

He pulled up to work just as the crappy 90's pop Dick had selected came to a close. It was a short ride to work every day, which pleased David just fine. He was pretty fond of his truck, but he didn't trust the thing as far as he could throw it. If it ever broke down he wanted it to be a short way from either work or home. The distance between the two was probably doable on foot, actually. It would take a while, but seeing as how he didn't have to carry a forty pound pack and a rifle anymore it would probably just feel like a light jog. There wasn't a lot of cover along the way, but the sun here was a joke compared to the years he'd spent out in Afghanistan. Only problem would be finding shelter in case of mortar fire but-
Wait, no, that was wrong. There was no mortar fire in Kansas. He was a civilian now, just going to work. Right. Cabinets. He had to repair some cabinets. Then maybe the bookstore after work, then the Leaky Tab. Wings half-off.

This was the hardest part of being back stateside, he thought as he climbed out of his truck. It wasn't flashbacks or anything so dramatic for him these days. He just forgot sometimes that he wasn't a soldier anymore. That was probably the real reason he liked listening to Good Morning Bluefort so much. It nice to start the day hearing another voice reminding him where he was and what was going on around him.

"Oooh, I want you, I don't know if I need you," he mumble-sang to himself as he stepped through the door to his workshop. Oh god dammit that was going to be in his head all day. Stupid fucking Dick Haymeier.
 
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Alayne de Avila
de Avila Residence, Bluefort

The light filtered through the windows as the girl opened her eyes. The sound of the music resounded through the house as well as the smell of the bacon and eggs coking from downstairs. There was the sound of someone humming to the music as well, and the girl could not help but smile as she looked around the room. She was a little confused for a moment that the walls are mint green instead of her room's light, sky blue, and then she remembered. That's right, she had barged into her brother's room last night. It was one of those "bad nights" as she called it, the ones when she wakes up to the screaming outside her door. But as usual, the mornings have been peaceful, with the sound of the Bluefort Morning Radio resounding across the house. She got up and rubbed her eyes, yawning as she peeked out of the door. Walking down the staircase, her nightgown trailing on the steps behind her, she leaned on the handrail, watching him as he cooked in the kitchen, singing under his breath.

"Ooh, I want you
I don't know if I need you
But, ooh, I'd die to find out
Ooh, I want you
I don't know if I need you
But, ooh, I'd die to find ---"

He stopped abruptly as he turned to put the eggs on a plate, noticing her as he smiled cheerfully. "Good morning, Alayne. How was your sleep?"

How was your sleep? she wanted to ask, but bit her tongue. Instead, she just shrugged as she walked to the table, sitting on one of the chairs, placing her elbow on the table and cupping her cheek as she remarked with a teasing smile. "Your singing sucks as usual, brother."

He chuckled, obviously used to her comments. "Oh, shut up. I know you love it."

She simply laughed as he laid out the food in front of her. It looked as good as it tasted. Christian sat next to her and he pat her head affectionately. They started eating like that, listening to the radio as the song droned out. At one point she watched her brother carefully, who looked like he was staring absentmindedly at a distance as he finished his meal. Suddenly, he randomly asked. "Say, Alayne, do you like magic?"

"You mean those compilation of clever but fake tricks designed to dazzle and extort money from a certain audience?" she made a grin that looked kinda amused as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, cynical again, I see." he said as he tapped on his thighs. "I was just going to ask if you want to go to this bookstore, the radio said it'll have a demo on card tricks and I'm kinda interested."

"Don't you have work today?"

He grinned like a little child. "Why did I ever become a freelancer for? I want to make today my day off and no one can stop me! Let's go together, Alayne, I would have no other desire than to spend a lovely, beautiful day with my beloved sister---"

Here he goes again. She frowned and tossed a bacon at his face, giving him a look. "Gross. I don't need a doting brother." she said as she finished her meal and stood up, placing her dishes by the sink.

He took the bacon off his face and ate it as he smirked at her. "Oh, shut up. I know you love it."

She couldn't help but smile. Yeah, I do.

"So you're coming with me then? Go on and pick any books you like and your dear brother will pay it for you~" he playfully continued, and she shrugged, acting like she was forced to, but honestly rather excited for it.

"Suit yourself."

 
Anna Pouf sleepily yawned in her swivel chair, typing in the last few slides on her powerpoint with quick taps.
Today was the last day of her first week as Bluefort Primary's new teacher, and she'd forgotten how exhausting the schedule and dealing with a class full of 8 year-olds was. Not that she could or would complain; teaching was something she genuinely loved and did well. Not to mention being able to catch a decent job here in her first month was a definite blessing.

After a small bite of her breakfast sandwich and a glance at the time on the computer - reading 08:06 - she reached across the table to turn on the radio, catching Dick Haymeier mid-sentence, talking about a magic demonstration happening at some bookstore in town and then about a happy hour at the Leaky Tab.
She stopped in her ministrations and took a pen and a pack of post-it notes from her table, writing down the name of the bookstore and then an enthusiastic 'MAGIC!' underneath it. She knew the kids would love a bit of magic. On another note, she wrote down the initials for the Leaky Tab and the times of the happy hour with a small smiley face. She'd probably be able to decode it by the end of the day since she'd been there enough times. But maybe this time, she' see if any of the teaching staff were available and invite them to go with her as a type of commemoration of her first week.

She also wrote the lucky numbers down on her hand, just in case.
With a nod and a spin of her chair, she stuck the notes on the bottom of her computer so that she wouldn't forget and went back to the presentation.
 
Even with the water running, the music bouncing around the bathroom was ear-splittingly loud. Just how Chelsea liked it. The tiles vibrated under her feet as she moved about, inspecting herself in the mirror which always failed to give her what she wanted, as did the one on her dressing table and the one on her bedside table. The mirror above her fireplace must’ve had something wrong with it too, and the full-length one in the corridor… plus the three in her purse. And it was best not to mention cameras. Still, she was not obsessive. Or so she told herself.

Fridays meant half-days. Half-days meant day drinking. Day drinking meant the start to a good weekend. She’d noted the bookstore sale that was on today, but the fact was that she’d probably spend her free time tanning or shopping until happy hour. Weekends weren’t for building on your brain – they were for killing it off with all kinds of hedonism.

Work came first, unfortunately. A few hours of telling people how to make themselves look better in her high-end department store and then she’d be free. Before that came the preening. She’d already been to the gym and was almost finished getting ready. And that entitled a lot. Showering, blow-drying, skin treating, teeth whitening, hair spraying, hundreds of pounds worth of makeup, posing, changing, more posing, more changing, and of course; plenty of self-hatred.

Finally, when that was all done, it was time for the worst part of any day: driving. Chelsea was self-admittedly an atrocious driver. Which was a shame with a car so gaudy sat on her driveway. It was much more impressive when it wasn’t being driven about in the most clumsy way.

With a final spritz of perfume, she made to leave, but something caught her eye. Her laptop was casting a slither of glow across her desk which was tucked into the corner of her rather fluffy living room. She stared at it for a moment, confused, then went over and closed the lid completely shut with a definitive noise. Dismissing any worrying thoughts of someone having accessed her computer, she left, tapping away at her phone to prepare a call to her brother whilst she drove to work.

The white door with the garish star shaped knocker slammed shut behind her.
 
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Its not fair, I found love, it made me say that get back
You'll never see daylight, if I'm not strong, it just might
Its not fair, I found love, it made me say that get back
You'll never see daylight, if I'm not strong, it just might
They figure me a dead motherfucker
But I'm just a motherfucker that want to be dead

A well manicured hand slammed down onto the alarm clock, the figure owning it groaning groggily into his satin-and-down pillows. Hair like waves of gold cascaded across his back as Tony struggling to bring himself to consciousness, seeming to fall into place on their own without the need for a brush as he rose. As it always did, so effortlessly. It was one of the few things, his good looks that is, that the young man could take genuine pride in. The rest was all a mask, a ruse, one crafted over a lifetime to lure people in. It all started with his morning routine.

First thing after waking up, Tony would pack a bowl of whichever strain he had on hand. If he had multiple, he'd pick his favorite of the group. If he had White Widow, that was always the go-to, no matter what. He'd puff on it leisurely from an expensive, and rather ornate, gravity bong for the first half. Then, once the bowl was about half gone, he'd plow through the rest, dragon-lunging and heavy hitting it until the smoke tasted like ass and ash. Once a pleasing buzz was in full effect, he'd pour himself a bowl of cereal. Two bowls, really. In one massive bowl. Always an equal mixture of Special K Chocolate and Special K Blueberry.

Next would come the brief shower. Five minutes at most. Just enough to wash the grime and grit of sleep and weed from his body and the smell of smoke from his hair. Then, he'd brush his almost perfect teeth. The almost irked him. Its one of the reasons he so hated his own smile. The very slight crook between two of his bottom front-row teeth combined with the hardly noticeable, but still present gap between his top-right incisor and canine drove Anthony completely insane.

With the worst part of his morning completed, the well toned man put on his most show-boatingly tight pair of jogging shorts, along with an Underarmor tanktop, set his watch, set his phone to the morning radio, and heading out his condominium door, making sure all four locks were locked before truly leaving.

As usual, nothing much that Davy said appealed to his sensibilities. The bar's happy hour was tempting, of course. The prospect of finding...companionship...for the night was always one that never failed to get Anthony's attention. And if they were drunk, well, that always made things all the easier. Not that the hazel eyed giant had to rely on such methods all that often. But it always made it easier, and he was never one to turn down free help.

His jog around the blocks picked up to a brisk pace once the music had started. Normally he'd turn on his own, hating the drivel that the station played more often than not, but right now it seemed like too much effort when combined with the fact he was already exercising. Right now his feet were carrying him towards The Tattered Page. He had an order to inquire about, after all. Little to no interest in any sort of magic demonstration, but books. Books were always good. The young Westbrooke was an avid, devouring reader of anything and everything horror, no matter the age range, and he was tired of re-reading the same books he'd brought with him from California over and over. Time to pick up some new stuff.

Finally, the music poked at his last nerve. Time to blast some real music. He was in the mood for The Creator...

Tamale, tamale, tamale, tamale, taaamaaaleeee
They say I came down since my last al-bum
Well lick my dick how does that sound um
Smell my gooche, you can kiss my buns
And I don't give a shit, ban my rectum
 
At 7:45 AM on the dot, the clunky radio on an end table jolted to life with the noise of overly ecstatic insurance advertisements and non-threatening family friendly music. next to the end table sat a lump in a bed which had slowly began to stir and groan reluctantly. Eventually, this lump would have to get out of the bed. The covers slowly fell to reveal a slender woman with flowing auburn hair, clearly exhausted and resistant of being awake. An audible "fuck" left her lips as she sat up from the bed, and she brought her hands to her temples. Hung over once again. It was pretty typical of Elyza to wake up in such a fashion. Ever since she moved to Bluefort, her best friend of all seemed to be the drink. Not much would stop that, not even the mornings after or the "what did I do last night"s.

Were it not for the state she was in, it would be clearly evident that Elyza was damned good looking, with shining emeralds for eyes, long, flawless auburn hair draped across her shoulders down her perky bust and a slim, graceful figure of someone who knew well how to take care of their body. She knew very well of her own enticingness, and was not at all afraid to flaunt it, for humbleness was not part of her person. She didn't need it to be. Why would she? That would suggest that she needed to have shame, and she most certainly did not need that. Currently, however, she looked... well... as if she had too much to drink. Her face crumpled and hair in a heap, she sat unwillingly up in her bed. Eventually, she had to get up. Elyza stood up at the end of the bed and made her way to the bathroom for her shower.

After her shower, she looked into the mirror and smiled vaguely at her own reflection. Even with the piercing headache and the nausea, she still had to appreciate who she saw in her reflection. Brushing her hair didn't take too long, as it fell quickly and obediently into place. She applied some light makeup to her face and got herself dressed up in a tight-fitting purple dress shirt and black slacks.

In the kitchen, she had made herself some espresso and grabbed an apple for a quick breakfast. She sat aside from her Bluetooth speaker on which she heard the voice of Dick Haymeier in his typical morning show host attitude. Some ramblings about magic demos at The Tattered Page. Though, the happy hour at The Leaky Tab sounded exactly up her alley. Half-off wings sounded worth hitting up, as well. She put down a notification on her phone for that, along with the lucky numbers. Maybe the lucky numbers were just superstition, but it didn't hurt to keep track of them, right? She turned off the radio the moment the song started. She was not feeling this 90's kick that Haymeier was speaking of. She got up and headed out her flat, ensuring her door was locked tight.
 
Vaidehi rolled out of bed, smacking her face on the ground which gave her an abrupt awakening. Groaning and rubbing her face, she untangled herself from the blanket and looked at the clock. 8:10. It read, earning an "Oh shit" from Vaidehi. Quickly, getting up she rushed around her house, freshening up as she did so. After she was ready, she had reached the door about to leave when she looked at her phone and saw the date. "Oh, it's only Friday. Well shit, never mind then." She dropped her keys on the table and grabbed herself a bottle of bourbon before sticking two waffles in the toaster. While waiting for her food, she turned on her music and placed it on shuffle.

The first song that came on was an Ab Soul song and one of her favorites, Nibiru, which was clearly shown as she rapped along with the lyrics.
"They trying to tell me that aliens built the pyramids
It’s funny ‘cause they probably did
Fuck I’m doing talking ‘bout pineal glands
Fuck I’m doing talking ‘bout pineal glands
Ancient ways of Sumerians
Ain’t nothing wrong with a righteous man
Uh, this is my Anunnaki flow
Oh, this be my Anunnaki flow
Yo, I got that Anunnaki flow
You are now on Planet X, I’m the God, show your respect
High Pow-Aah!" She yelled, jumping at the sound of her waffles popping up from the toaster. With a shake of her head, she grabbed her food and sat down, popping open the bourbon while she dumped syrup all over her waffles. Taking a heady swig, she dived into her waffles, finishing them in a matter of minutes. After a while of sitting around, she got up and headed out for the day, well at least until she had to go to work. They were doing Happy Hour today, something she low-key wasn't looking forwards to.
 
This Friday seemed to be the day for jewelry for Oscar’s shop. While more customers than usual had arrived and browsed, and some even made purchases,
Dingaling!

The bell to Oscar’s shop rang, and two more entered the store. The first was an impossibly beautiful woman, whose immaculately maintained appearance made her seem straight out of a magazine photo shoot. Even when she barely glanced at the jeweler, her eyes pierced directly through him. Even before she spoke, simply from her posture and general heir, this woman had a great deal of power in her personality. Not far behind her trailed the second, a man that seemed ten to fifteen years older than her. While he seemed confident, it paled in comparison to his companion. With his blue button-up shirt and grey slacks, and a smartphone he regularly checked, it wasn’t terribly hard to figure out what he probably did for a living.

“Peter, look at this one~” The woman purred and nearly dragged him to the jewelry display. He followed her gaze to item number five. She squinted and looked down at the ring. “It’s even in my size. It’s beautiful,” she trailed off.

“Wow,” he raised an eyebrow in genuine interest, though that visibly melted when she mentioned it further. “Do you want it?” Whatever she answered, he was already reaching into his coat pocket and retrieving a money clip. All she had to do was smile, and he knew what she was going to answer.

He handed an American Express card to Oscar, his expression softening a little as he spoke again.

“Number five, please.”


At the Tattered Page, the magic demonstration hadn’t quite started yet. Behind the counter was a young man, dark bluish-grey dyed hair nearly covering his eyes but clearly showing off the two stud piercings in his left earlobe. While his t-shirt seemed to fit his neck correctly, it seemed a little too baggy to be the right size. Those that frequented the library would know he started working there not terribly long ago, maybe a year.

The door jingled when Anthony walked through, to which the adolescent glanced at him and gave a quick half-wave.
“Hey, coming in for the magic?”


Vaidehi’d come to the Tab and see her coworker Margaret already there. The ravenette had a pretty standard outfit, Judas Priest tank top, leather jacket, faded and ripped jeans and combat boots. What skin was showing was heavily inked, and a blindfolded angel held its arms outstretched on her chest and collar. Her movements were even more lethargic than normal and her eye-shadow seemed a hell of a lot heavier on her right eye. Maybe she was just hungover again. A crooked cigarette was pinched between her lips as she cleaned a few glasses. She always said the latter was mostly just a habit she’d picked up at the last bar.

She didn’t say anything to her colleague, as a matter of fact she didn’t even seem to notice Vaidehi at first.


The door to David’s workshop creaked open, and the stumbling gait of footsteps announced a new customer. The guest, a blonde woman carrying a rather large easel, tottered and wobbled as she wrestled the folded wooden contraption into the store. She had a fuzzy sweater and near-circular glasses, which suggested her likely profession.

“Hi, uh, can you fix this?” She unfolded the thing and placed it in front of her, “it’s pretty shaky and doesn’t stand straight anymore, already dropped three canvasses off it…”


Business so far was pretty standard at Chelsea’s department store, and the only one that stood out was one young woman. Her wavy hair was a brilliant red, though not unnaturally so. She moved with incredible confidence, with a smile plastered across her face and a Nikon camera hanging around her neck. The lens cap was still on it while she was browsing through the selections. The photographer or whatever she was occasionally whipped out a smartphone and typed onto it, or muttered to herself.
 
Tony paused to remove his earbuds, stuffing them into a small duffel along with his phone. Another briefer pause to stretch himself out, really showing off his well toned physique. "Mmmmmmmm...No, not here for the magic. I'm here for a couple of books I ordered. The collective works of King, as well as a few of Barker's older stories. Should be under the name Anthony. If not, try Westbrooke. Don't worry, I'll wait. Before you go however, do you all have a public fountain, or maybe a coffee shop? I'm quite thirsty."

It would be clear by both his tone, and the way he almost sort of posed while speaking, that he wasn't truly speaking to the book shop worker. Rather, it was more like he was speaking through him, expecting each and over one of his words to carry the same weight that a king's might. "If I need to help carry them to the counter, I will, but I won't be very pleased about it. Now then, I believe I asked about possible beverages. My mouth and throat are incredibly dry, and its only getting worse."
 
Time seemed to pass slower on Fridays, with the hours she worked feeling like a full day, even though they were cut by half. She swanned around, feeling strangely agitated as she tidied displays of tiny bottles and boxes that were stamped with a gold leaf logo that caught the light of the nearby chandelier stunningly.

It was normal for customers to inspect the stands for long periods of time here. But there was one in particular that Chelsea noticed was pushing her welcome. Perhaps she wasn’t, perhaps it was just the hair that made her stand out from the others, or the fact that Chelsea was prone to unwarranted jealousy and territorial mannerisms that had already been prickled by the drive through Bluefort earlier.

It was actually the camera around her neck that was making her uneasy, she decided. Although the cap was on, she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous, though it was likely that this girl’s intentions were entirely innocent.

After closing on a sale and wishing the customers a pleasant day, she made her move towards the girl with the red hair. Actually, it was more as though she crept up on her.

“May I help you?” she asked in her overly sweet service voice, suddenly beside the girl.

Chelsea knew she should’ve done her job, directing her to some sort of colour depositing shampoo, maybe. But she just wanted to know what the girl wanted and get her out of the way before that cap came off.

Despite being the most overdressed member of staff on the premises, she still wouldn’t have considered herself camera-ready. And no one really needed to know how mundane her life really was. The flashes were for the weekend.
 
Elyza had decided to forego work this Friday, per usual. She figured the company didn't really need her there for work she could easily be doing at home. Not that she did the work, though. Maybe that's why her employees held such grudges against her.

Fuck 'em, they get their paychecks either way. She was going to have her Friday off looking for some fine literature and getting wasted. Bursting into the door of The Tattered Page, the first thing catching her eye was the less-than-modestly dressed, faintly vampirish man patronizing the young librarian at the counter. She didn't pay them more than a second glance and a haughty rolling of the eyes, though, for she had novels to consider perusing. She had noticed the magic demo was going underway soon, something she visibly didn't display much intrigue for. It was probably just some cheap parlor tricks and some amateurish sleight-of-hand like you'd usually see on the street. It likely wasn't worth the time. She delved into the aisles in search for another literary beast to slay.
 
David squinted at the easel, the woman carrying it, and then back. The easel was kind of a wreck; without even looking any closer, he could tell that one of the legs was too long, another was slightly crooked, and the screws holding them together were just a bit too loose. The wood it was made from was shit, too; very cheap, very weak, prone to splintering and warping with age. Even if he fixed it now, the thing wouldn't hold out long before it had to be brought back.

He smiled at the woman in a way that he hoped looked sympathetic. "Well, ma'am, I could, but I think you'll get more out of your money if I just make you a new one."

The woman opened her mouth to respond, but David quickly added, "I wouldn't charge any more than I would to repair it, of course. New client discount." He wasn't entirely sure he could afford to be handing out 'discounts', truth be told, but this woman didn't look like she had a whole lot of cash to chuck around, and discounted business was better than no business.
 
With every new customer that came in the door, Oscar smiled wider and glanced down at the three lucky-numbered pieces of jewellery. Even if he didn't admit it, he would be toasting his drinks to the mysterious HR and Phycology advisor that night. He was just accepting the money for a diamond ring when the bell rang.

He looked toward the door. The look of the woman and her older companion that came through didn't surprise him. He was a jeweller; it was practically every day he got a sugar baby and her daddy coming in, even if he hadn't been working all too long. He was quite fond of them, since they always had enough money to toss around on the most expensive of his wares, and the men were usually quite friendly. This woman looked quite like other sugar babies he had seen, except, in his opinion, the woman looked a little more...expensive than the others. Whatever this woman wanted, she would get it.

"Good morning," he said to the couple. Oscar couldn't help but smile a little more when the woman took notice of number five. He smiled politely at the man as he pulled up the card reader from under the desk. He gently took the card and slipped it into the reader, then turned it towards the man so that he could put in his pin. He opened up the glass cover and plucked out the silver ring. Still holding the ring in one hand, he reached under the table and pulled out a blue, velvet ring box. He sat it on the table, open. "Would you like to try it on, miss?" He asked with a smile. "Rings like this look especially brilliant when you pair them with other amethyst pieces. I have a few others that would match it well." He nodded towards the left side of the glass, where there was a matching bracelet, necklace and earrings, all silver with amethyst features.
 
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