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"Jonesy, if you get her anything that's under 5k I swear on my life that I will end you, got it?"
The store clerk stares in shock -- and a dash of amusement, but she tries not to let it show -- at the scene before her. A couple of extremely well dressed women, one with fiery red hair and the other with perfectly sleek black hair, accompanied by a young man wearing some sort of crown shaped beanie.
Currently, he's shooting daggers at the black haired girl, even if the threat came from the redhead's mouth. In turn, she regards him with a sly smile and reaches over to clasp the redhead's hand in hers.
The man in question, the one who's been in her store for over 45 minutes now, sighs audibly and massages his temples for what she thinks must be the fortieth time since the three of them walked through the door. Almost one per minute, she thinks, impressive.
"It's a real shame no one asked for your opinion, Cheryl," he mutters under his breath, glaring at the red haired girl that she can now tag as Cheryl.
"Obviously, or else we wouldn't be here and you would be in Paris discussing stones with Jean Pierre, like you should be," Cheryl retorts back, making a show of trailing her eyes over the glass displays in the store with disgust.
The dark haired girl, the one with incredibly arched eyebrows that somehow work on her features, winces lightly and mouths, “I'm sorry," to the guy, who simply rolls his eyes hard.
She loves her job, she really does. It pays well, they have top notch security, and frankly she loves getting to help people with one of the most difficult decisions in their life. And, in times like this, she remembers just how much she loves observing people and gathering details to fill the empty spaces of the stories in her head. If what she's gathered so far is anything to go by, she's almost certain that the redhead's presence, Cheryl's, hadn't been part of the plan.
She wonders what the story behind them is and sighs internally. If only she could ask their customers once they've finished their purchase, it'd be fun to confirm how right (or wrong) she'd been.
"I'm sorry, can we go over the ones you already showed me?" the guy addresses her, and she tries not to be too obviously snapped out of her investigative thoughts.
The dark haired girl elbows him lightly as she leans forward to inspect the selection she'd organized for him at his request of material, stone and budget. He grimaces before adding. "Showed us, sorry."
She hides her grin as best as she can, although she thinks he might've caught her as he gives her an amused look.
Clearing her throat, she gestures towards the first ring and lists off every specification she's been ordered to memorize.
She can tell he's not convinced after she finishes going through every detail and answered every question about the 5 rings sitting on the counter in front of her.
"What do you think, Ronnie?" he prompts at the black haired woman, and she thinks, from the expression he's wearing, it's a disguise for the real question he wants to ask. Can you please tell me which one to choose?
Ronnie seems to have caught on to that detail as well, because her eyes immediately soften and she rests her free hand on top of his forearm, squeezing lightly.
"I know everyone thinks I like to meddle, but I really think you should make the decision yourself, Jug," she says gently, searching his face until he nods and turns back to stare at the rings.
"I agree," comes Cheryl's voice after a few minutes, much softer than before. It seems to startle the man, who she's pretty sure Ronnie called Chuck or was it... Jug? she can't be sure, who turns sideways with raised eyebrows. She catches his eye, brown eyes sparkling. "The right ring should speak to you, remind you of her eyes or the glint of her hair in the summer or something cheesy like that."
Cheryl finishes with an eye roll, and she can tell that the other two members of the ring party are surprised at the gentleness of her words. She wonders if the eye roll was added to soften the impact of what she said. Maybe she's not used to being sweet.
Chuck/Jug stares at Cheryl for a minute before he smiles, nodding. "You're right, Cher. I just don't want to mess it up. It's Betty."
She takes notice of how this seems to be enough of an explanation for him, and apparently for his two companions as well. It's Betty. He says it with such intensity and devotion that she feels a little something tug at her chest.
An idea pops in her head as her three customers continue to chat. She turns around and reaches for the box that has been sitting in the shelf behind her for a few months, straight from the workshop.
She places it on the counter, clearing her throat. Three pairs of eyes meet hers, all with various degrees of raised eyebrows.
"I-- um, was thinking about what she just said," she clears her throat again, gesturing to Cheryl. "And I remembered we have this ring," she takes the top off, revealing a green sapphire stone circled by small diamonds sitting on a shiny gold band. "It was part of one of our designer's very first collections in the early 60's. It's never been used, he'd kept it for his son but unfortunately he passed away before getting married. A few months back he found it while he was clearing some drawers out and sent it to our workshop for some polishing and maintenance, and it's as good as new."
She lifts her eyes away from the counter to gauge their reactions, only to find that they're all fixed on the ring. Both girls have stray tears running down their cheeks as they clasp each other's hands tightly. Him, whatever his name is she'll have to check discreetly when he pays, stands with his mouth slightly open.
"His only wish was for us to offer it to someone who looked like they deserved it. So, from what I've gathered..."
But she doesn't finish, because he's already reaching for his wallet.
She loves her job.