She was not late. Plum Price was never late. She simply arrived whenever it was convenient for her.

With her hair pulled up into a very mod ponytail, short straight bangs cut above her eyebrows, the Daily Prophet receptionist was a picture of the polished professional. Or something like that. She wore a crisply white blouse with short sleeves, with navy shorts that had little cherries printed all over them. Her shoes were red and high-heeled and a red sweater was wrapped around her shoulders. Yes, she would make that Josh Cloud wish he had never irritated her to the point of almost-tears.

She walked in with as much confidence as she could muster, knowing that most of the people there would be of the sort who knew about her handicap. But that was all right. She looked good. She felt good. And no one would be able to take that from her.

She walked through the gates into the little courtyard, lingering near the perimeter, waiting to be noticed. Someone please notice her. Please.