<span style="text-decoration: underline">The Store 9:00 am</span><br/><br/>The muffled sounds of the town slowly coming to life filtered in through the front window. The warm rays of the sun softly gleamed off the polished wooden floor and counters. The light betrayed the interior's age as was care and commitment put into it. "Antique" was a good word, maybe "Vintage" was okay, but old lady DuHart would rise from her grave and take this place with her before someone could call it "Old". T.T. cleaned the countertops unhurriedly, her hands moving carefully over the surface with a thick yellowed cloth. It was therapeutic, the low noise and lazy work. It's what kept Charlotte here all these years... Atleast, that's what she told herself.The sharp creak of the wooden door followed by the tired ring of the old bell pierced the air. The door slammed harshly of its own volition. A small panting figure stood in the doorway, his arms barely able to contain a thick wooden crate. Charlotte sighed audibly, an amused smile tinged the corners of her mouth as she watched the boy struggle.<br/><br/>She rested a hand on the counter and watched the boy struggle into the store a bit more before dropping the box with a resounding thud in front of the shelves<br/><br/>"We got atleast five dollies and you're carryin' that thing around by hand?" the incredulity in her voice was apparent. The boy stood up and scratched his head.<br/><br/>"Naw, T.T., John an' Foreman an' them took 'em for somethin'." he replied in a winded but sheepish manner "said I wouldn't need it for a few small boxes."<br/><br/>Charlotte stopped in her tracks "Now, next time you see Foreman tell him that he'll be stockin'. I got a few words for that old sum'," she motioned to a small crate sitting next to the door "how 'bout you take this one right here and follow me over to the inn for breakfast." Charlotte slowly stepped from behind the counter without waiting for a response. The boy hopped up and shuffled over to open the front door for T.T. before hurrying back in to heft up the crate and follow.<br/><br/><span style="text-decoration: underline">The Inn 9:23 am</span><br/><br/>Charlotte arrived just in time to miss a commotion. She watched a group of men walk indignantly away from a familiar scruffy man toward the door. One of them gave her a hard look. She returned a warm smile without flinching. The small boy whitened as they passed and Charlotte placed a firm hand on his shoulder.<br/><br/>"Do me a favor, Alex. Take that box on over to a table and make sure it doesn't walk off."<br/><br/>"Yes ma'am," he nearly whispered before shuffling away.<br/><br/>"'There won’t be anything left to jerk off with.'? You been spending too much time around them teens, Kurt." she chuckled before focusing her attention on Arianna. She looked particularly upset. Charlotte had a feeling why, but she made a point of not addressing the matter.<br/><br/>"How you doin' this mornin', baby? How's the little one doin'? I brought some preserves and honey over for you to try: Tell me how the Rose Hip came out when you get a chance." she was diverting. She knew where this congregation's focus would shift otherwise, especially with Kurt and all these witches around. She was surprised he hadn't torn his beard out trying to deal with the nonsense going on in town.<br/><br/>Ingrid was standing stark despite the shift. It was hard to pretend when your children were at stake. Charlotte smiled at her "If it ain't little Eliza and her Momma," she announced theatrically "Pretty little girl, Ingrid. Looks just like her momma," she chuckled. Charlotte could feel the magic coming from that girl. It was strong, uncontained. Ingrid had good reason to be worried.