*listens carefully; the clerk is trying to call her manager, and from the whispered swearing, it sounds like she's not having much luck* *awww, poor little mite, she can't deal with the Big Scary, can she?*
*drifts past the open doorway, her long black coat swirling around her legs* *scrapes her nails against the jamb, just lightly enough to take the paint off* *sing-songs aloud* Betcha you're afraid of sooooomethiiiing... 'fraidy-cat!