Gemotions

She straightened her shoulders, a thrill coursing through her. The chipped paint of the pawn shop's door practically screamed ‘low-class,’ but *she* would be the one leaving with the prize. "Oh, this little thing?" she said, feigning disinterest. The shopkeeper, a man whose eyes held the weary wisdom of too many bargains, seemed unimpressed. But she wasn't. She knew the craftsmanship, the cut of the stones. "It's… adequate," she continued, her voice light, as if commenting on a poorly made pastry. “But I might consider it.” A small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. She savored the moment.