Montague was right and she was certainly tacking on a convenience fee for his timing tonight. But his devil-may-care smirk was infuriating and if she didn't need the money and the business she would have gladly shown Isaac Montague to the door. "I'm sure you're used to being catered to."
They all made that mistake. Thinking they could do it themselves. That was until they trimmed the tail twigs too short and started landing in a spiral. Professional players were the worst of the lot. Arrogant and eager. Yawning, Tracey cleared her head and jotted a note on the parchment on her worktable. Just a running list of minor adjustments.
If she'd noticed Montague's displeasure with her being on his broom, she ignored it completely. She maintained her 'take no prisoners' attitude where her business was concerned. "That's what I was saying. Your size most likely compensates for it. Here, feel." Tracey reached for his hand, indicating for him to feel the handle while she hovered and leaned forward. The broom, if it had legs, would walk as if one were shorter than the other. Lopsided, but obviously not a detriment to Montague's playing ability. It was the difference in their weights that meant she couldn't steady the broom. "Likely not bad for you, but for someone small this would be very dangerous."