Today was the day Claire finally had to give in and go shopping. For clothes. Which was something she really hated to do, but recently her sister had been mocking her mercilessly for 1. the gemstone-covered shirt she'd worn on her birthday 2. most of the shirts Claire owned that had mustaches on them, and 3. pretty much anything in Claire's closet. It was never good for Nora to have an excuse to make fun of Claire. To Claire, making fun of your older sister was a one-way road reserved for only Claire.

She was in the shop blindly looking for something she could wear. She avoided the mustache shirts and the ones that were misshapen, but felt a bit helpless. When looking for clothes, Claire mostly looked for comfort, but also enjoyed bright colors and obnoxious patterns. Those opinions were apparently all wrong for Fashion, at least in Nora's opinion.

Claire fished through the racks, bored by most of the items. She had no idea what clothes would look good on her -- she wasn't into the teeny tiny heels that Nora wore with the boring little black dresses, always little and black. She groaned audibly, rolling her eyes and banging her head on the rack.

It was difficult for Liadan to believe that she had been married for nearly two months. She still felt joy and elation at being called Mrs. Whitman when she was out and about. It sounded so much better than O Morain. Now that she had settled into her new home, and the novelty of having a husband to tend to was beginning to fade, she was spending more time out and about.

Hogsmeade was not her usual choice of village. She much preferred the shops in London or travelling to wizarding cities in other countries... But she had a lot of old clothing that she felt was unfit for a married woman, and had decided to take it by Gladrags to see if they would want to resell it or keep any of the notions or fabrics. There were still some witches at Hogwarts who dressed appropriately and behaved like ladies, and Liadan felt it was her duty to give them something more traditional to choose from off the racks. Many of the gowns and robes she was getting rid of were very pricey, designer items.

After talking with the wtch who ran the shop, Liadan was glad to be able to convince her to take all of the things she had brought along. She extracted them out of the enchanted bag and helped to carry them to the back of the shop so they could be priced and hung.

While she was in Hogsmeade, Liadan supposed it wouldn't hurt to visit a couple of other shops. And she was just on her way out the door when she saw a young woman banging her head on the rack. "Do be careful not to injure yourself," Liadan said. "I would hate for you to bleed all over the merchandise. The shopkeeper is too nice a lady to have to clean up that kind of a mess."

It was true that Claire sometimes forgot that she was in public. She wasn't someone very prone to embarrassment, since she spent so much time trying to humiliate others. Claire was used to doing it to herself, but never minded making others laugh - even if it was at her. Someone addressed her and mentioned the mess she might make should she injure herself. Claire had not yet been introduced to the Gladrags shopkeeper but she now that she thought of it, she was curious as to why on earth someone would go into the confusing world of fashion.

Claire looked around, realizing her surroundings, then looked back at the woman before her. "Would ye help me?" she asked (a bit pathetically). Her nerves and frustration were bringing out the Irish in her, hence the small bit of violence she committed against the sales rack. "I'm just trying to find something a bit more..." she didn't know what word she was supposed to use her. She stepped out from behind the rack. "Maybe a bit less..." Claire gestured to her body and to her outfit in general, which was - as usual - pretty eccentric. Her shirt had a pizza on it, which probably explained quite a bit about Claire's fashion sense.

Liadan was... surprised at the plea for help. And as the young woman gestured at her current state of dress, she could not help but flinch in horror. What was she wearing. Did women really go around in public in short pants? Liadan looked down at her own outfit, then back at the witch. Had a muggle stumbled into Hogsmeade by accident? Did things like that happen? It was hard not to sneer at the girl, but somehow Liadan managed to keep her expression indifferent. She was the wife of Oscar Whitman, an important man in the wizarding world, she could not go around insulting strangers anymore.

"Are you quite sure you are in the right shop?" Liadan asked. "I do not know of many witches who dress... like that." That was the safest way she knew to comment on the girl's choice of outfit.

"Are you looking for something more... traditional?" Liadan asked. "I'm afraid that if you aren't prepared for a total change of direction in your... fashion... that I might not be of much help. I tend to follow a more modest and old fashioned view when it comes to my attire." Translation: Liadan was a purist who liked to show off her social standing in the way she wore her clothes.

Claire hadn't taken a long look at the woman's wardrobe, but now that she was criticizing Claire's she decided to take a gander. It was a bit conservative for Claire's taste, and also significantly lacked personality. No patterns? No hilarious statements? Maybe she had made a mistake, and the woman seemed to notice it. Clearly she was concerned about Claire's fashion sense. The woman's once-over was almost worse than her sister's.

"Modest might be a good direction to go in," Claire responded, oblivious to the lady's somewhat back-handed comments. "I'm Claire, nice to meet ye." Even in the face of criticism, Claire tried to be friendly at first -- most of the time, anyway. Some people were just asking to be pranked right away, desperately needing to lighten up. Maybe Claire's insanity combined with this woman's conservatism would create impressive results. Or disastrous ones. Either way, Claire put on a big grin and decided to bear it.

Liadan was pleasantly surprised to hear the witch agree that perhaps modest was a good direction. Her eyebrows rose thoughtfully, and then the witch introduced herself as Claire. "Liadan Whitman." She was relieved that the woman didn't extend her hand to shake. Liadan never was a fan of touching a stranger's hands- she even more wary of touching the hands of this girl. There was no telling how long it had been since they had been washed.

She took another few moments to study the young woman. If she was willing to take some help, Liadan could spare some time to give it to her. It was a good deed. And good deeds were important. She was a married woman now, it was her duty to bestow her wisdom on the less fortunate, was it not?

"I would suggest starting with the length of your bottoms. Perhaps try something that will, at the very least, reach the knee? I myself never wear trousers, I find it too masculine, but I understand the necessity of a nice pair to some people. I would suggest some that come all the way to your ankles. They are more flattering and will give you a more mature look. And a blouse. Something with buttons and sleeves. For your complexion, I think a nice shade of blue- something rich, but not necessarily bright... What size are you, dear?"

The word 'modest' reminded Claire of her grandmother, more specifically her grandmother's clothes. She twitched a little at the thought, thinking of herself decked out in those horrible frocks that skirted the ground. The collars of those outfits were so high that Claire wondered how her gran hadn't suffocated -- and now she was thinking of wearing something modest herself? Turning 23 had caused some strange, worrisome changes in Claire's life.

Liadan's face did not convey a very old age, but her outfit certainly did. She didn't appear to be sweating too much, and Claire wondered how this was even possible. Sweat was dripping from most places on Claire's body, and it wasn't even the height of summer yet. Some ladies just got all the tools necessary to be a Proper Lady.

Apparently the length of her bottoms were in question now. Once Liadan let out a few key words -- trousers and blouse and dear, specifically -- Claire realized she might have been shopping with her grandmother. "Did ye happen to know Caoilainn McByrne?" Claire asked, just to be sure her grandmother hadn't been reborn. "...In a past life, maybe?" She blinked as the woman went on describing the most boring clothes that Claire could imagine.

Liadan paused in her thought process of how to dress the woman when she was asked if she knew a Caoilainn McByrne. She pursed her lips in thought, then offered a light shrug. "Not as I can immediately recall. However, I met quite a few people growing up on my family's magical creature farm. If Miss McByrne was a pureblood, of high social standing, or perhaps at all useful with beasts then I suppose there is a chance I might have made her acquaintance at some point in time during my lifetime, though the name does not- at the moment- ring a bell."

"Though I hardly see how my acquaintance with such a person is at all relevant to your current fashion crisis." It was a strange turn of conversation. Though judging from Claire's accent and the name she was given, there was a chance she knew of the woman at the very least. Liadan was Irish herself, her family's business nestled in the Irish countryside.

Liadan paused for another moment, and took a deep breath. Perhaps she was moving too fast. Recommending too many changes at once. "I do not mean to be insulting, Miss... Claire," she suddenly realized she did not have the witch's last name, "but your current manner of dress smacks of muggle influences. If you are of muggle descent, or are someone who chooses to identify with their culture, I am not certain I can be of much help to you. However, I understand that the very traditional manner of dress which I believe to be proper is not for everyone."

"Maybe we should start small?" Liadan suggested. "There are some nice trousers with leather side panels that seem to be quite fashionable among the professional witches of London. Especially those involved in active careers and lifestyles. Dark colors tend to make anyone look more mature and fashionable. Perhaps try those first, and find a nice button-down or frilled blouse to match? If looking more professional is your goal. If you are simply looking to find an outfit which actually matches, perhaps ask the clerk for a color wheel?"

Yes, Claire did realizing that asking about her grandmother made her look quite a bit senile, but she did not realize this until it was too late. This was very normal for Claire, but the response she received about pureblood-this and high social standing-that was not one she expected. Claire blinked at the woman speechlessly, wondering what on earth she was possibly supposed to say to such a comment. She definitely shouldn't mention the fact that she was a half blood, she assumed.

So, there was a reason this lady dressed so traditionally. So Liadan wasn't into muggles. That was kind of weird, especially considering the time... it had been years since the attack on Hogwarts, and such an opinionated view wasn't nearly as common, at least not in Claire's experience. But what could this little shrimp lady do to her anyway? Claire had her defenselace on, and that could help her in a pinch.  "Em -- well -- I may be a bit -- half-blood," Claire said, never having felt nervous about admitting this before. "Don't ye get hot, with all the long skirts and sleeves?" Her Irish accent thickened with each sentence.

Claire looked over the things Liadan had picked out, a clear look of disgust painted on her face. "I-- I mean what's so wrong with colors, and patterns?" Claire asked skeptically. Was this an offensive question? Why was fashion such a touchy subject?! People barely barely wore clothes in Bible times, but everyone had something to say about how short Claire's shorts were.

Normally Lala would walk into Gladrags kicking and screaming murder or possibly under Imperio. Truthfully, the mere thought of it made her shudder and got her queasy. There was nothing—nothing—quite as atrocious and hideous in the entire world (and that included crocs) as wizarding fashion. Unless it was cosplay or some weird ass larp. But as it happened, her grandma's birthday was coming and she had subtly kept implying that she was in need of a new dress. And her antiquated style, although muggle would fit right into Gladrags.

While she was browsing through an endless array of nasty robes, she couldn't help overhear the two girls talking on the next aisle. She couldn't see them, but one of them made Lala raise her head and make a wtf gesture with practically her entire body when the creeper said something about the length of your bottoms. Lala looked down at herself and her lips thinned to a straight line. What the actual hell? Was this 2010? Had she somehow ended up in the 1800s?! I mean... she would never say no to a DeLorean or a TARDIS but—that was besides the point! And what. Who in the name of sweet baby jeebus actually legit thought that trousers were masculine.

Was this the real life? Or is this just fant—NO. Offtrack again, Styles! Christ. And then then the—holy mother of god, had she just casually implied that unless whomever Cao-something McBarn—Bird? By-whatever!—was a pureblood her stuck up arse wouldn't have anything to do with her? What the frick?! How had nobody clocked this lady seven ways till Sunday before? I mean, if they hadn't yet, Lala would sure wouldn't mind to. And then she had the guts to say that she didn't mean to insult? Wait... was she a pod person? That could be a thing.

And then, oh hell nah, came the thinly veiled muggle bashing and Lala was so done she was basically carbonizing in the oven. At that point, Lala split open the rack, moving the hangers apart to see just what exactly was this—this thing. The other girl, the one that was being practically verbally assaulted looked perfectly normal. Kinda awesome actually. And the creeper—god she had expected someone on their way to fossilization with maybe just a really youthful voice. But no... Christ almighty. How was this her life?

In a sudden bout of rage Lala's short blonde bob turned a violent red, growing in curls past the shoulders, curling itself around her body, and her eyes took a rather demonic look. She knew that SPN marathon was gonna bite her in the butt one of these days. She stepped through the rack and between the two, furiously hitting at one hideous carpet patterned robe that dared to get in her path. Out of the way carpet-robes! Lala Styles was on a bloody mission.

"There's nothing, zilch, nada, nil wrong with colors and patterns" she interrupted with a huff, glaring daggers at the racist—bloodist? that should be a thing—creeper. "Listen lady, excuse my language, but frankly you're being rude as fuck" she declared emphatically with a grimace as she pulled back to give the woman a look full of distaste. "And you" she turned pointing her finger at the other girl, with a perplexed look "there's legit nothing wrong with your clothes. They're fine, perfectly fine and that T-Rex necklace is epic and, I dunno you, but dude" she stopped, accentuating the word with a lower tone of her voice "in what universe is it okay to just stand there and let yourself be trampled by this, this—" and then it hit her and she snorted so loud she thought for a second that she might've broken something, and muttered an ow.

"This Regina George" she declared triumphantly, obviously very pleased with herself.

Halfblood. That explained it. "Oh, are you?" Liadán said. "Well, in that case I can see why your fashion sense doesn't quite make sense to me." There, that was nice and civil. Diplomatic even.

When Claire asked if she got hot, Liadán laughed, amused. "Godric, no! There are plenty of charms to prevent the skirts and sleeves from making it too warm. Not to mention a lot of the fabrics of my wardrobe have been enchanted to maintain a comfortable body temperature. It is the wonder of magic. Of course, sometimes a full skirt can be slightly inconvenient, but I was simply raised in a household where ladies did not wear trousers. And I rather like my skirts and sleeves and traditional wardrobe. I find that it fits my lifestyle quite well."

Liadán was about to tell Claire that there was nothing wrong with colors or patterns- Liadán wore both- when a stranger interrupted, and starting cursing at her. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes grew wide, shocked at such inappropriate and horrid behavior coming from someone she did not even know. And then she called her Regina George. Liadán blinked, snapped her mouth shut, and pulled herself to her full height (which was an inch or two shy of five feet tall).

"Before you so rudely interrupted our conversation, I was about to tell Miss Claire that there is nothing wrong colors or with patterns. In case you had not noticed, I myself am wearing a lovely shade of green- which happens to be a color. And for many charity events I have donned gowns decorated in very elaborate and luxurious patterns."

"I do not appreciate being spoken to in such a disrespectful manner," she said. "I have said nothing to the young lady which could be deemed rude. I was asked my opinion, and I gave it, in a very calm and respectful manner. It is better not to make gross assumptions about a conversation that you have not heard in full. First, I clearly indicated that I did not mean my comment to be insulting- and second, I stated that my traditional views and manner of dress are not for everyone. And explained that I am not helpful when it comes to muggle fashions. Third, my name is not Regina George- you must have me confused for someone else. However, as a pureblood witch, I have never entered the muggle world or been exposed to muggle culture, which means I would lack the knowledge to aid the witch in that realm of fashion. I see nothing wrong with anything that I have said on the matter. Unless 'muggle' is no longer the... politically correct term for those of non-magical heritage?" Liadán asked, tilting her head curiously to the side.

In the past, the outburst from the stranger would have sent Liadán into a furious tirade. But it was not just her reputation at stake anymore. She was a Whitman now. Her husband an important member of the Wizengamot. She could not afford to tarnish his reputation by slinging spells and insults in public at strangers.

She shifted her attention back to Claire, and gave a soft, perfectly practiced smile. "I do apologize if you found my commentary offensive. I did not mean to make insinuations. I was just attempting to indicate that I am of no help when it comes to muggle-inspired fashion choices. I can only help you with a more traditional, modest manner of dress that I am familiar with. Though, if I am not mistaken, muggles also wear trousers and blouses? Even my own dress," Liadán motioned at her outfit, "was once the height of fashion in and out of magical circles. Basic construction of trousers and dresses is the same throughout the globe, I am certain. The difference is the cut, material, and color."

This situation was quickly growing out of hand. Somehow this woman was going to convince her to wear olive drab and slacks, and she was going to hate it. Imagine if Liadan actually got her into a dress like the one she was wearing -- wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes! Claire nearly busted out laughing at the image that appeared of herself. Why was she trusting this lady? This seemingly racist lady? Because she'd walked by her in the clothing store? For all Claire knew, she could have been just passing out pamphlets advertising her ancient opinions on muggles. Leave it to Claire to get roped into clothes-shopping with a muggle-hater.

To each their own, though. The lady hadn't directly insulted Claire, just her clothes, and to be quite honest Claire couldn't care less about that. Liadan did insinuate that she was at a loss regarding Claire's fashion sense because Claire was a half-blood....? This was actually starting to get ridiculous, maybe. Claire sort of wished she had one of her contraptions so she could discretely humiliate this lady. In a way, Claire felt bad, because obviously this woman had been brainwashed into her opinions. Maybe she didn't know any better. That didn't seem to matter to the girl who came trampling on to the scene.

It was a relief to see that she was wearing an outfit quite similar to Claire's own outfit, and that she complimented Claire's fashion sense was extra flattering. Claire felt a little prouder, and a little less in need of this lady's help. "Er- thanks! It grows," Claire managed to slip in, referring to her necklace, before Liadan went off on another tangent about muggles. Oh bollocks. This wasn't going to end well. Claire could tolerate insults, but she couldn't speak for everyone.

The little speech Liadan made confirmed that she had been raised in a way that didn't allow for varying opinions. Purebloods were a tough sort, very set in their ways, and Clarie wasn't really sure how they weren't completely inbred at this point. Claire left these opinions to the side, as the woman honestly was trying to help. She hadn't meant to be so derogatory and insulting... so that had to count for something, right?

"So you've never worn pants?" Claire asked abruptly. She didn't even have to ask about whether or not Liadan owned any t-shirts. "Ever tried? They're mighty comfortable. Especially with a nice flannel... Or a sweater," Claire added, a bit irked by the fact that she was able to correctly identify so many different clothing pieces.

In an attempt to peace-keep, Claire turned to the new girl. "I'm Claire. This is Liadan," Claire added, not knowing whether Liadan would introduce herself to someone so clearly muggle-happy. "How 'bout we pick out outfits for each other, and we have to try 'em on?" That seemed like a fun way to shop, though she wasn't sure she'd actually purchase any long skirts Liadan might make her try. The new girl had good taste in jewelry, though - Claire thought the necklace was hilarious and the little bag-thing she was holding was even cooler. Liadan might not have appreciation for them as they were mostly muggle-influenced, but Claire was definitely amused.

Lala responded with a small ugh. That was not a color, well it was... Used in anything but clothes, Lala supposed it was a lovely Mughal green. Except it was on a dress. A long one. And color-blocked as well. But then again, just because it wasn't her cup of tea... She was curious if the luxurious patterns, she thought in a tone that mimicked the woman's snobbish one, were of the curtains and carpets variety. Actually, she could've bet her life on it.

Her mouth fell open, complete affronted expression on her face, as the lady had the gall to talk about talking in a disrespectful manner and being rude and so on. Was she real?! Did she have some sort of social disorder? Did she actually believe she was saying? She was going to comment that she did hear the conversation in full, but she had the feeling giving that sort of information to the creep was only going to be in her disfavor so she clamped her mouth shut. But what if she did truly believe all the shit that she was spouting. "Oh" she pulled back, her expression growing softer. "That's just sad" she said giving the woman a pitiful look, and not quite meaning to say any of that out loud. But her anger was flashing back upon her last words. What.

"Lady, you're delusional. I don't know what you mean by as a pureblood witch. You make it sound as if being pureblooded couldn't possibly mean that you would have anything to do with the muggle world. And that is justrude, disrespectful, and not to mention discriminatory. I have pureblood friends that play CoD, dress from muggle shops and listen to Mumford and Sons. Don't bloody use it as en excuse, it's a fuckin' choice. And just because you chose not to... mingle with muggles it doesn't mean that other purebloods have not. That's just tarnishing the name of purebloods everywhere " she spat, seething with actual hatred by this point. Things were getting just a little bit touchy now. She knew more about this than most would, she had been a muggle-born in Slytherin for seven years. Yeah, maybe she was getting a wee bit off topic, but still...

She snorted loudly because of course the weirdo wouldn't get a Mean Girls reference, but that just made it more fun. God, she hoped she'd be tormented by it and forced to inquire about what the hell she had been talking about. Hopefully to someone muggle. God, she hated that term... She didn't even understand why the hell should there be a classification based on blood anyway. The entire concept was discriminatory.

Obviously the lady knew nothing of fashion. At least the sort that was actually of this century. And the way she'd expressed she was certain of her beliefs made Lala give another snort. She shouldn't even bother. What the hell? She had been having a lovely day before this witch—and, no she did not mean it that way— came and trampled all over it. Ignorance was bliss she decided. "Pants" she snorted. "I'd like to see how she'd react to thongs" she deadpanned and threw an impish grin at the other girl. But she wholeheartedly agreed with the flannel, people just didn't get flannel anymore. Sad panda.

"I'm Lala" she declared with a bright toothy-smile, and held out hr fist for Clair to bump. Now, she hoped she didn't leave her hanging. They were now bros against the Wicked Witch of the West. And she didn't mean Elphaba. Elphaba was cool. Broody and misunderstood but cool. She completely ignored Regina George. Or Liadán, apparently. She'd left home to escape the Pale, and apparently Ireland followed her everywhere.  Just her life.

"Ugh..." she said articulately, looking a wee bit uncomfortable. "I'm here looking for something for my grandmother" she said awkwardly. As in she wouldn't be caught dead trying on anything from the shop. "But I could help you find something that's not a carpet or a curtain, if you'd like?" she said giving a side-glance to Liadán and her medieval ensemble. "You can dress smart without having to completely kill your style and personality, ye know" she offered with a little wink. "Or look like you came out of an Elder Scrolls game" she added with a wince and a whole body shudder.

Liadan was appreciative of Claire's easy going nature and kind demeanor. At least she knew how to act like a lady. "I suppose I have worn trousers in the house, on the very rare occasion, but I cannot remember it at the time. Play clothes as a child, I mean. I do not own a single pair currently, though. Just not my cup of tea."

But the woman- who introduced herself as Lala continued to berate her. Liadan genuinely could not understand why. She had been very civil, and kept her purist views to herself. She had not called the girl a mudblood or openly criticized her blood line. She had been careful not to come across as demeaning. Which was a feat in and of itself.

She sighed quietly and smoothed out her skirts. "What I mean is that I was raised as a pureblood, in the traditional way. I am fully aware that some purebloods are a part of the muggle world- I am not an idiot. I cannot fathom why you would be so hostile with a stranger- especially after I have apologized to Miss Claire on the off chance that I offended her while offering my opinions."

Liadan turned to Claire, and gave her a genuinely sweet smile. "I appreciate your kindness in this matter and allowing me to give my fashion suggestions- even if they are not to your usual tastes. You are a very sweet young woman and I do hope that should we ever meet again, that we can continue our conversation- perhaps over tea? I would be very glad to get to know someone who can conduct themselves as selflessly and genuinely as you have throughout our interaction."

"While I do appreciate the invitation, I will have to decline. I have no desire to remain in the company of someone who is obviously offended by my very existence. Perhaps another time I will oblige you."

"You, on the other hand, could do with learning some simple manners and how to treat people with respect and civility. There is no reason for a difference of opinion to devolve to such harsh, abusive, and accusatory language. That is no way to encourage anybody to have an open mind and hear you out. And I, for one, will not tolerate being treated in such a manner. I have some self respect, and I will not be demeaned and belittled in such a way by a woman who does not even know me. Imagine how you would have reacted had I attacked you in the very wicked manner in which you attacked me- and totally unprovoked. Calm words and a cool temper is how you settle and discuss disagreements, Miss Lala. It is the way in which diplomats reach compromise and governments accomplish the day to day task of running a country. If nothing else, I hope you can learn something from this interaction and in the future you will think before lashing out at an innocent bystander."

Liadan smiled at Claire again. "I do hope we cross paths again. Witches like you give me hope that the entire world has not gone to the dogs. Tradition might not be right for some, but at the very least tradition teaches men and women how to behave like civil beings instead of like a wild animal."

With that, Liadan gathered up her skirts and brushed by Layla, and directly out the door- without so much as a glance over her shoulder. She could not believe the nerve of the witch, to be so horrid and insulting without provocation. People like her were the reason that Liadan clung to her purist views. A pureblood witch or wizard would never act so abonimally in public.

Where the heck was the owner of Gladrags?! Smoking in the back room?! Things were getting a bit tense, and Claire shifted uncomfortably. When it came to dealing with people like Liadan, trying to argue or persuade them had proven to be pointless. It was better for them to just think what they wanted and plant a stink bomb on them for later than to make yourself red in the face about it. Still, Claire understood Lala's sentiment, and so she stood waiting as the ladies aired out their grievances.

These women were like two opposite sides of a spectrum. Layla's speech was rife with muggle references, of which Claire only recognized a few. On the other hand, Liadan clearly had no idea what Layla was talking about -- Lala might as well have been speaking another language. She had insulted Liadan to the point of leaving, and Claire felt a little bad. She just wanted everyone to get along and be able to laugh at themselves, but not everyone was willing to be so easy-going. Claire respected the fact that Liadan would rather hold on to her integrity than listen to Layla's opinions any longer.

"Er- thank ye, it's been real," Claire stuttered awkwardly. She blushed a bit, conflicted about how to feel about this whole ordeal. "See ye around." That was a scary lady who she was happy she hadn't pissed off. Close call, really. On another day, Claire would've been pranking this lady into next Tuesday. Claire felt bad that this woman had just gone on and on about manners, but Claire had faced enough criticism for her own behavior enough times to let it pass.

"So that was a thing," Claire said, turning to Layla. "I could help ye with your grandmother, perhaps... she gave me some good advice there, in between the bits of bigotry..."