Alex POV

Ah, sweet Melodia. I would almost seem like bog and all his angels had shone down upon it, just for me, if it wasn't for its ridiculous eemya. I strolled in and viddied the mesto like any other day. That's when I saw the malenky devotchka, over in the corner. She was around 15 and standing over by the New Releases in a thick, purple sweater. An ash ponytail swung by the dama's hips. She was humming an unfamiliar tune that one could easily kopat. I straightened my shirt and walked over. "Hardly Timbre, eh?" I pretended to pony even an inkling of who the veck was. She turned to me and a pale little rooker fluttered to her peachy rot. "Yes. Their music is…passable."

"I myself prefer classical." Offense fillied on her litso. "Well, some are not as fortunate enough to be as cultivated as yourself." I couldn't stop my amusement with her silly anger from showing. "Thine lips deceive, then." I bowed low. "It's an honor. You can call me Alex." She viddied me over with a skeptic glazzie. "Gwendolyn." Turning her back to me, she resumed flipping through the records. That was very annoying. Did she take me for some second-rate skolliwoll nazz? She had no idea who she was messing with. I always get what I want. "Well, Miss Gwendolyn, it is a pleasure." I held out my left rooker. She turned to me, obviously confused and litso flushed. "Likewise, Alexander." Now that I had flattered her she spoke to me like some grand sophisto. Ptitsas today were so very predictable. It almost wasn't fun. Almost.

"So, Gwendolyn, I've come here many a times and never have I seen you. Where are you from?" I spoke in a most gentleman goloss. "Have you heard of Huntsview?" She waited from me to respond. I nodded and looked at the blue veins pulsing under her pale plott. I knew of the warm, ruby friend that they carried and regarded it fondly. "Next to that is a city called Maywick." I raised an eyebrow. "Yes. I'm from a little town close to there called Clark's Willow." She raised her hand and smoothed her hair, instinctively, I presume. "Well, that's horrorshow. Quite dobby. I happen to be a native. I've lived here my whole life. I'd be the perfect person to give you a tour, if you would accompany me." Her eyes darted to the temporary kot behind the counter. The grahzny bratchny was giving Gwendolyn the ol' glazzie staredown and getting quite a kick out of it. You could tell the gloopy orange was harboring a pan-handle. I turned her the other way and whispered softly. "Listen, if I don't get you out of here soon, the guy behind the counter is liable to jump you." She looked over her shoulder and looked back. "Really?" Her eyes grew wide. Too easy. "Of course! Uncle Alex knows these things. Come with me." I took her hand and led her outside.