As Shireen opened the bookstore the next day, she was entirely prepared to see neither hide nor hair of Asha.

Something about Asha, or rather what she'd been taught of people who looked like her, told Shireen that she would be hard to nail down with responsibilities. Shireen was sure that if she explained the situation to her father, he'd make some comment about how unlikely it was that the girl would even finish her stint in university.

Yet as she double checked the register for the proper balance of funds, she caught a glance of the tall girl outside, waiting to be let in. Without thinking, Shireen smiled. It was nice to see someone following through on what they said they'd do.

Thump, thump, thump.

All other tasks for opening complete, Shireen unlocked the front doors and gestured for Asha to enter. She did not miss the way Asha batted her eyelashes as she grinned, though the only thing she could think was that she must have gotten dust in her eyes. "Good morning, beautiful! Ready to start the day?"

The hooligan was wearing a new outfit, and Shireen had to wonder if it was some attempt to impress her. She still had on black pants, but these ones weren't ripped up, and they were paired with a black band shirt that looked entirely outside of Shireen's musical tastes. However, the shirt was mostly covered up, with a yellow vest. Not a particularly nice one, it looked older than Asha and was likely found at a thrift shop, but still, it was more professional.

Shireen was unable to hide a wince at the volume of Asha's voice. "It begins whether we have readied ourselves or not. Nonetheless, I am prepared. As, it seems, are you." Asha was carrying a notebook along with a handful of pencils. It wasn't a fresh notebook either, but clearly one that had already seen some light use. "Follow me."

Thump, thump, thump.

Walking stick thumping on the hardwood floor, Shireen led Asha back to the rare books cabinet, unlocked it, and handed her the book she needed, noticing the girl had already put on gloves for just that task.

But Asha's eyes weren't on the book. They were on Shireen's stick, looking at the carvings along its length depicting woodland animals and castles by the sea. Letting out a long whistle, Asha knelt, her body easily folding up with her spindly arms and legs, inspecting the wood more closely. "Look at that. Did you make it yourself, or was it a gift? From a girl? Couldn't be prettier than me, so I shouldn't be jealous."

Unsure what to make of that word salad, Shireen arched an eyebrow. "It was a gift, yes, but not from a woman. A...friend of the family was responsible." She wasn't entirely sure what else to call Mr. Seaworth, considering he'd refused the title of father from her several times, despite his intimate relationship with Stannis. "Now then, if you need me, alert me. Otherwise, handle customers as you did yesterday."

Thump, thump, thump.

Free to get to her primary task, sorting the mess that patrons made of her father's store, Shireen let herself be absorbed by it. Finding what did not belong, identifying the fault, locating the proper location, and delivering it there. Nearly every time she did so, she would find another problem at her destination and be ready with a new quest to undertake immediately.

With the exception of a few customers who came in, only to be quickly helped by Asha, the morning hours in the store were rather peaceful. Only one sound interrupted the quiet of Shireen and her stick, and that was the scratchings of pencil on paper, coming from where Asha was reading.

Which was far from an obtrusive sound. In fact, while Shireen knew to some the telltale tchtchtch of graphite was akin to nails on a chalkboard, she had always found it rather soothing. It made her work more clear headed. She found herself getting less angry at the customers, instead able to truly lose herself in her work.

Thump, thump, thump.

After a quick trip to the front, Shireen locked the door and affixed the proper sign. She walked up to Asha and found her utterly consumed in her reading. It was fascinating, seeing what this girl was like when she wasn't trying every minute of the day to... do whatever it was she tried to do around Shireen.

That said, she was somewhat worried by the obvious strain in her eyes, and how close she was holding the book to her face. Something to chide her for later. Clearing her throat, Shireen proclaimed, "It is our requisite lunch break. Put the book down, and we may eat a meal without worrying about customers."

"Oh!" Asha wasn't startled, but she fidgeted in her seat for a moment, seemingly unsure what to say. While she thought, she carefully closed the book and returned it to the cabinet. Shireen had to give her a point for that, it was unexpectedly thoughtful. "...I didn't bring a lunch, though?"

"Ah, I suppose you ate a formidable breakfast, if that's the case." After all, one didn't expect to work an eight hour shift at a job without food.

At least, that was what she thought, until she heard the loud, groaning sound suddenly rumble out from Asha's stomach. Looking embarrassed for the first time since they'd met, Asha tried to cover her blush with a chuckle. "Yeah, uh...I guess I'm a bit hungry." A look of concentration passed over her features, and Shireen had the feeling the woman was mentally calculating her finances. She sighed when she'd arrived at her conclusion. "Well, it's not like hunger will kill me."

Shireen smiled. Hers was not, from what she understood, a pretty smile. Not something to make others flush when directed at them. No, like so much else about her, it apparently came off as rather stern, and perhaps a little mocking. Which, to be fair, fit this particular situation. "Have you heard of 'starvation'?" She held up the lunch carrier she'd brought from the front desk, and asked, "Do you have any food allergies?"

"...shark?" Asha replied, confused. "But that almost never comes up. Why?" Without a word, Shireen handed the other woman a homemade sandwich and a store-bought granola bar. "Um... wait, seriously?"

Already digging into her own sandwich, Shireen did not feel the need to respond. Her actions were fairly obvious, something even Asha was able to pick up on as she hesitantly pulled the plastic wrap off the sandwich and started to eat it.

They consumed the food in companionable silence, though Shireen could not help but notice Asha still looked at her, befuddled as to why this was happening. Between foot items, Shireen sighed and gave an explanation. "My father is under the impression that I do not eat as much as I should, and thus I am frequently left with more food than I am willing to eat. Giving what I would normally not have consumed to you is simply avoiding waste."

Something about the answer made Asha quirk one side of her mouth up, in a strange half-smile. Mouth half-full with granola, she said, "Suuuuuure. Definitely not you being a softie or anything." After swallowing her food like a civilised person, Asha couldn't seem to help throwing out, "Also, I don't know what your dad is on about. You're fit."

"'Fit'?" Shireen repeated the word sceptically, tapping her walking stick on the ground with a thump as she did.

"Sure, proper fit. Why do you think I keep flirting with you?" That smile stretched across her lips again, sharp as a knifepoint. "You're doing me a favour, so I'm trying not to push too hard, but I don't go around flinging all these compliments at every girl I see."

Something in Shireen's mind had been stopping her from mentally assigning the various comments and winks from Asha as 'flirting', but avoiding that conclusion had become rather impossible.

Part of her wanted to do so anyway. The few times anyone had spoken to her in such ways in the past, it had been part of a joke she hadn't been able to understand. One at her own expense.

That, or pity. Which, if she was being frank, was worse.

"You say that," Shireen finally replied, putting away her lunch container and collecting the meals refuse to throw away. "Yet, I can imagine you being entirely the type of person to throw around such flattery without a care in the world. Whether that is because the words are empty, and your goal is simply to experience some short encounter from which you can walk away without consequence, or because your eyes and heart wander without care, I do not know."

"Huh. Sounds like you think about me a lot." There was a hint of teasing to her voice, but nothing Shireen could read as malicious. No, instead she sounded unperturbed by Shireen's insinuations, utterly relaxed and happy to be spending the lunch break with her.

A lunch break that was almost over. Rising up, Shireen took care of the rubbish, handed Asha the book, and opened the shop again once more.

Shireen did not react to Asha's words by blushing and gasping like some mewling fool in a romance novel. She did not find herself thinking of Asha no matter how she tried to focus on work, distracted by the woman's charming words and penetrating gaze.

Such cliches belonged in the lives of those with an interest in them. Shireen kept her mind on her job, at best mildly thankful that Asha wasn't too put out by Shireen's caustic speech.

Other than that, Shireen didn't think much of Asha until that night, relaxing in a nightgown. She was beginning to fall asleep, the dehumidifier in her room working as white noise to guide her busy mind into a more inactive state, when a question found itself in the forefront of her thoughts.

What is Asha studying at that college?