Bistro

She was wearing an acrid grin the moment she entered the store. Boxes upon boxes. She'd lose a portion of her earnings, the commission fee for junk-selling, but this retailer's was no different than the standard fare around the castle. What mattered more behind her patronage was the message behind it, a greeting. In the same way he'd paid her wares a visit (and then promptly stole them away from the commonfolk of Aincrad). Splendid. Had the merchant himself not been in the store, her beam was sent to the nearest assistant available, arms folded under her chest. Her fingers tightened

[16/2/21]

[15/2/21]

"As a commission, yes." She'd heard the man from the backroom, unable to meet his sights. A few days taken off to wrangle other types of consumables, and already she'd been behind on a select few items of her stock. The resentment wasn't missed, however. Bistro might've chuckled if she'd caught sight of which patron it was. After all, Firm Anima boasted the most amount of resources out of any collective group at the moment. What was with the hostility? Unless they were behind on their developments in one way or another -- but from her aids' reports, nothing of the sort seemed to have

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