"I'm good- I already ate. You can have some of the honeysuckle from the tasting plate, it just came in season." I say, happy to have such a polite customer. Much better than that fat old guy with the wings, who tried to steal my carrots but failed miserably.

"Oo, really?" Ames said happily, casting the occasional glance at her unattended stall. She tried some of the honeysuckle and grinned. "Where do you get all this?" she said around the cucumber and honeysuckle, gesturing around the entire stall.

Blue walked off. Her nose was buried in the newspaper. She almost ran into several people, but managed to avoid them.

"I grow it in my greenhouse. It's out in the field, right behind the mayor's building. You should visit it sometime! There's a big flower field out back, and the pumpkins are going to be ripe in a month or so." I love talking about my plants, and could blab on and on about them all day.

"Huh, maybe I will," Ames said. "Although I hate squash," she added, sticking out her tongue and making a face. "Pumpkin is a squash, right?" she asked.

"Well, to keep it simple, pumpkin is one type of squash and squash generally refers to four species of genus cucurbita, including the species to which pumpkin belongs. So, to make it clearer, both squash and pumpkin belong to the same family, which is the cucurbitaceae." I say, hoping I didn't give too much information.

Ames blinked, and then snorted. "Nerd," she said, hoping the girl could tell she was just teasing. People often picked up malice in her voice that wasn't actually there. "Either way, I still hate cocurbitse or whatever," she said, destroying the pronunciation of the word.

"It's called cucurbitacea, and yes, I am most definitely a nerd." I say, getting the sarcasm right off the bat.

Ames grinned. "Ha, you're not the only one," she said, tugging on the wrist guards over her scales. Suddenly a motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she tensed, hand jumping to the scabbard in her belt loop. She realized that the movement had just been a kid dashing by on the other side of the stand. She let her hand drop, slightly embarassed.

"You use a sword, eh? I have my hand hammer right here," I say, gesturing at my hammer. It's made out of Jietl metal, which is black, but with a purple hue. People see me as a dainty little maiden, they don't know the strength in my arms, or the necessity I feel to protect my mother's greenhouse.