The older woman behind the counter fixed Briar with an unsympathetic frown.

"I'm sorry, but I'm simply unable to hire you," she stated for the second time, looking down at her from above her upturned nose.

Your husband said differently, thought Briar, but she kept that part to herself. Taking an eloquently-written advertisement from one of the many pockets she'd sewn into her skirts, Briar set it down and pushed it closer to the woman.

"Please run this then. I can..."

Briar's head turned when the door opened behind her. In walked a woman clothed in black, her footsteps followed with sighs. As she lamented the loss of her maid, and her subsequent need for a new one... Briar retracted the written ad and slipped it back into her pocket. Rather convenient this all was.

"Pardon me, miss," she greeted, with a respectfully deep bow to the other woman. Without fully raising her head, Briar continued, "I don't mean to impose, but if it's a maid you're looking for, I'm experienced and in need of employment."