I've been Rping a pre-movie Balthazar elsewhere on line, and thinking about him running the Arcana Cabana made this pop into my head. I could theoretically have used for the prompts 'Dragon' or 'Unicorn', I suppose, but it really fits 'Arcana Cabana' best, which is one I've already used. So consider it Arcana Cabana part 2 or something?

This is set in 1998, and the little girl could be interpreted as wee baby Becky if you're so inclined, but it doesn't have to be that way.

1b) Arcana Cabana (Reprise) (980 words, no warnings)

"Ma'am?" Balthazar kept his voice even and low. He rarely raised his voice in the Arcana Cabana, because so many of the artifacts were sensitive to his mood. At the moment, his mood was: cranky. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to watch your daughter. I'm an entrepreneur, not a babysitter." Actually, he was neither of those, but she didn't have to know that.

The woman in question was talking on a cellular phone, a comparatively new digital model, and from what little he could glean about the conversation, she was making dinner plans. Meanwhile, the child with her, a pigtailed waif who couldn't be older than eight, was clambering across the 18th century divan upon which one of the lesser-known Monks of Medmenham had died due to overindulgence in wine and ritual sex. Primarily wine. Still, the furniture was known to carry a slightly unwholesome vibe, and the idea of a tiny child exposed to it set his teeth on edge. Come on, lady, this isn't a playground.

The woman held up a hand impatiently to shush him and continued on with her conversation, peering into one of the jewelry cases near the stairwell. Balthazar took a deep breath and started to count to ten, then changed his mind and came out from behind the counter. "Sorry, princess; I can't let you play on that." He lifted the girl off the divan gently.

She didn't seem afraid of him. In fact, she latched onto his coattail after he set her down, tugging excitedly. "Is that a unicorn head? Is it?"

Glancing toward the mounted skull she was pointing at, he swallowed his annoyance briefly in light of innocent enthusiasm. It was one of his favorite items. On the other hand, a unicorn skull meant a dead unicorn (he certainly hadn't been the one that killed it, but still), and she might be old enough to make that connection and be dismayed by the implications. "You like unicorns, huh? What do you think of dragons?"

"They breathe fire," she said. "Like Mushu!"

He was perplexed. "Mushu?"

"In Mulan." She shoved her tiny totebag at him, and he recognized the image on the front. The animated film had come out earlier that year. Of course a child would be excited about it.

"Oh, I see. Is Mushu a little dragon? I have a little dragon. Wait here." As he got up and went behind the counter, it occurred to him belatedly that saying 'let me show you my little dragon' to a small girl could potentially get him arrested.

Despite his request, the child trailed after him and stood with her chin over the counter. "He's little, but he can breath fire and bite and he's red and he gots horns."

"Mmhmm," he nodded absently and placed the dragon figurine on the counter. Merlin's ring hadn't moved in centuries, and he didn't sense any eldritch power in the child, but he had to check, just the same.

"Oohh!" she reached out and stroked the scaly metal back with a single finger. "What's his name?"

"He…doesn't really…have a name." Balthazar blinked. Naming Merlin's ring had never occurred to him, nor had it to any of his previous apprentices.

"You can call him Charlie," she decided, and picked up the figure to make it dance gently on the counter.

Balthazar's amusement was swallowed up in resigned disappointment. Obviously, this girl wasn't the one. Across the store, her mother was finishing up her phone conversation, and as she hung up, she came over and plucked the figure out of the girl's hand, peering at it nearsightedly. "Don't play with that, hon, that looks expensive."

Balthazar bristled, because he hadn't given the grown-up permission to handle it, but as she set it back down promptly, he held his tongue.

"He said I could," the girl protested.

"Did you see anything you wanted?" the mother cast about and pointed out a doll in the case. "That's cute."

Balthazar slid the dragon back in its box, then into his pocket. "I don't actually sell toys, ma'am."

"What are you talking about? That's a doll, isn't it?" Either not noticing or not caring that her daughter looked lukewarm, the woman persisted. "Take it out. How much is it?"

"Look, that's not a toy. It's a 17th century poppet. It was used by folk magicians and witches to indirectly attack their enemies. Not only is it an antique, it's not safe to handle, which is why it's in a case."

She stared at him. "It's a voodoo doll?"

He gritted his teeth. "That's an oversimplification, but more or less, yes."

"You shouldn't keep junk like that where children can see it!" she snapped. "What kind of place is this?"

"This is an occult gift shop. It says so on the door. I asked you repeatedly to watch your daughter, but you were otherwise occupied. You are extremely lucky she didn't get into the section where I keep swords and daggers, let alone poisonous herbs. Not every store in Manhattan is child-friendly."

She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, then gave in and took her daughter by the arm to drag her from the store. "Fine. Come on, baby, the man obviously doesn't like children."

Considering how many apprentices he had raised to adulthood, Balthazar found that a little rich. Normally he would pass up a parting shot, but he couldn't help himself. "I love kids," he growled after them. "It's their parents I can't stand."

Once they were outside, he locked the door behind him, watching them through the glass. The little girl waved over her shoulder as she was hustled off. He sighed, a headache blossoming behind his eyes, and went into the back to make fresh coffee.

It was after this incident that he opted to make the store open by appointment only.