Unnamed

"I'm so sorry, darlin', but my store is closed until this here situation is sorted. This rascal broke outta the darn zoo, somehow, and it's been makin' a mess of my dresses! There's fur all over them -- a situation I've never had ta deal with, since, yaknow... dragons mostly have scales, an' all, and it's too hot here for Tundras -- and sand imbedded in all of my lace and velvet. I have no idea how ta fix this; I had no idea it was even goin' ta happen," she sighed exasperatedly, claws clicking anxiously along the floor as she trotted around, grabbing a broom from against the wall and beginning to sweep absentmindedly. "I was just designin' a new pattern and outta nowhere, my windows were blasted with sand so hard I was sure they'd be scratched up by the enda' the storm, and then this critter flew in and I haven't been able ta get any work done since."

"I just..." she said, pausing, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I need ta get this thing outta here so I can go get myself a cold drink at the saloon. Please, if you wouldn't mind, leave me to this -- I don't wantya getting sand in yer eyes as I try to shoo this thing out," she said, and out of respect -- and slight fear of, well, getting sand in your eyes -- you turned to leave. As you met the door, you heard a soft groan of frustration coming from behind you, and words with a sweet-sounding lilt followed. "If you end up going to the saloon yourself, please do me a nice little favor and tell that deadbeat Kelton that he owes me some payments for the triplets, okay? Thanks, sweetheart!"

The graceful Pearlcatcher watched you in interest, the two of you chatting against the large front window of her shop. Her left paw was gently stroking the silky fur of her pet fox, the elegant animal eyeing you suspiciously as it lay upon its satin pillow, basking in the sun pouring in. “Oh – yer here about that situation, ain’tcha? Mm,” she nodded, her proud shoulders drooping when she realized you weren’t there about her many fashion items and statement pieces. She clicked her tongue softly in understanding, turning to strut across the room to her counter, her bustle sashaying behind her. She ducked down to grab something behind it, and came back up holding a small scrap of fabric; when you met her again, she gingerly offered it out to you in one paw, pointing to specific patches of it with her other as she spoke.

“Now, as ya can see here,” she began; the more she spoke, the more foreign her accent sounded. Almost as if she was trying to put it on thicker than it naturally was. “This flimsy thing seems real sunbleached, dry, and parched. Likely from lotsa wear out in that heat – so even with all my, dare I say professional, knowledge… I couldn’t tell ya what color it originally used ta be. It’s also very worn and thin, so I can’t tell ya what specific garment it may have belonged ta, either.” She could see your face fall, and her hand that was pointing at the fabric moved to instead hold up a single digit in pause, a small smile playing at her lips. “But, I do happen ta know somethin’ – given this thread count and weave style… I can fer sure say it’s from one of the Highnoon apparel sets!”

At your grin, she retracted her paw, and closed her other over the piece of fabric. She gave you a gentle nod; she wasn’t dumb, and knew your necessary interaction was now over. However, that didn’t stop her from at least attempting to catch your attention elsewhere. “Now that I’ve been so kind as ta give ya a wee bit of knowledge,” she said, her tone woven with gossip, “once yer investigatin' is over, of course, be sure ta come back and buy somethin’, yeah? And, darlin', if ya could, maybe go see the lovely florist – Fuchsia – down the road, won’tcha? She’s the one who keeps this place smellin’ nice,” she said, tipping her head over to a bushel of flowers in a pristine glass vase that sat upon her counter. You hadn’t noticed it before, for its bright petals all but blended in with all of the (you guessed) moth-bitten fabric around the room. “If she gets another customer, she might be willing ta trade with me again,” she winked, now willing to send you on your way.