Josephine's resolve was fading. After all, she was a fifteen year old girl. There was no real reason why she couldn't play dress up. And so, Josie emmerged from the dressing room and did a playful twirl in front of the mirror.

And of course, in doing so, slipped not only into the boy standing a little ways behind her, but the rack of hand bags he was looking at.

"Oh, Merlin's beard I am so so sorry!" Josie breathed, looking very apologetic and indeed a little nervous. Some people, she had learned, angered very easily.

"Are you alright?"

She bent down to pick up the fallen bags. "Were you looking at one of these in particular?" Her cheeks had colored slightly by this time. "I shouldn't be dancing in the robe shop. I'll never learn."


'Love me like your eyes; but that is not enough: like yourself, more than yourself, than your thoughts, your life, all of you. Till then, a thousand kisses, mio dolce amor! but give me none back for they set my blood on fire. ' -Bonaparte