To an Unsolicited Mind [t.r]

3. Quit

August 1945
____________

In the past month, Tom had fallen into more childish antics, but he could admit he was at least enjoying himself. He had started to do little things to tick her off, in the mere hope she'd get so fed up that she'd quit. Though he had to be subtle about it or else he would end up looking ridiculous.

What he did varied from moment to moment, mostly just depending on his mood. The first time was his favorite, Chiara's reaction was priceless.

Throughout the day, as she was either cleaning certain objects are just making her way through the shop, he'd make things jump out at her. A few weeks ago, a new artefact had come in and Mr. Burke wanted it spotless and on display immediately.

It was a medium sized, albeit small tree standing at nearly seven feet. It's bark was pitch black, and smooth to the touch. Though if one were to look closer it appeared that the trunk was woven from strings of the night sky itself. At night, Tom also found that if you look long enough, the wood seemed to sway and move, rearranging itself like moving water. The branches were long and spindly, similar to a spider's webs. There were no leaves, but it did bare blood red flowers.

So, as Chiara was tending to the tree and sweeping up any fallen petals, Tom waved his hand and one of the branches whipped out to hit her lightly. Similar to the way the Whopping Willow would attack anyone who went near it. She let out a startled scream, clearly being taken off guard and Tom had to bite at his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

Following that, every time she passed the large mirror they had hanging up on the left side of the shop, Tom would gather dust into a makeshift body and have it hover over her shoulder. Chiara didn't notice at first, but once she looked up and saw a faceless being lurking behind her she staggered away and bumped into a table, sending the contents toppling.

She got a good telling off for clumsiness from Mr. Burke that day, all the while Tom sat smugly at the front counter reading a book.

He would also trip her up when she was with clients. Either by physically making her trip, or jinxing her to stumble over her words. His favorite incident was the week prior, there was an elderly couple Chiara was trying to convince to buy a necklace that was supposedly ancient and belonged to Morgana's sister.

While she was walking backwards, just two steps, he formed a ridge in the carpet and that sent her forward, knocking right into the man. Their position wasn't necessarily compromising, but the wife surely didn't appreciate it. Needless to say, Chiara wasn't successful in her sale.

His favorite thing to do however, was hex her food. Most notably her beloved golden apples. Last week, she had walked in, and like usual, he declined her offer.

When lunch had rolled around, he'd aimed his wand at the spare fruit and hexed it to have maggots in it, though he made sure none would dig their way out and break the skin.

He sat at the counter as per usual, flipping through one of his many books and he heard her descend down the stairs before rounding the corner and nicked the apple off the counter. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, watching out of his peripheral vision as she went down the second set of stairs that led to the basement where she usually ate her lunch.

Barely a minute had passed when he heard her scream echo through the floorboards. "Che diavolo!" Her voice tore through the air, it easily carried itself up the stairs and Tom had smiled wickedly into the worn pages of the book.