Fandom: Pokémon
Character/s: Jessie, James, Meowth
Words: 200
Notes: 50k30days, Oct 14th. It should be noted that I have not written for this fandom in about eight years, and that all my previous efforts should be burnt, and that I have no reliable knowledge of the show beyond, like, the Orange Archipelago.
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"Jessie?" James ventured, one arm half-raised in case his partner tried to club him with something for interrupting her sales pitch. He was rather relieved when she arched an eyebrow at him, one hand on her hip.
"What is it, James?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You've stopped making souvenirs."
"Uh," said James. "Do you remember why we started this stall?" he added, seeing her fist clench. Meowth, clambering down from the register with a satisfied grin, caught the question and looked thoughtful.
"Well, dere was dat ting wit... was it a band? Nah, an orchestra." A beat. "Didn't you wanna see dat, Jim?"
Silence stretched the fabric of the booth. James began to be nervous in a stomach-twisting, rather than palm-sweating, way.
Jessie turned an odd shade of pink, turned back to her customers, snorted over her shoulder. "Do you want to hear that racket, or do you want to be filthy rich?"
Two minutes later, while he was mournfully serving a doddering old man, she slipped the cash into his back pocket and threw him out of the stall.
"And don't come back without a program," she told him haughtily, smirked, and closed the tent flap in his face.