cassie's smile is bright as she eyes the baked goods, wondering which one of the overly sugary treats could be hers (she hopes it's the vanilla looking one, with the chocolate seeping brutal - warm down the side: she has grown to like anything that tastes like rot or, at least, one day could-- this means cassie likes most things). " you're late. i suspected you'd be visiting today. " cassie stands in the doorway to her shop, the one gently perched below the climbing attic of her bedroom. it's not good to mix life and work but, well, she is only ever those two things, anyway. she's wearing bunny slippers: their eyes narrow at sharon as if they, too, suspect her of being late. " did something keep you away? " a hunch, that's what cassie has. her mother would stroke her hair and tell her that it was a psychic bleed, a feeling that was more than a feeling. cassie thinks that's stupid. but, hey, it sells, so she plays pretend well enough that no one really notices. " come on in, rain's starting soon. that's not me, that's the good old weather channel for you. anyway, i'm glad you're here. i needed a little help with some thing. two things, really. "
