Reporter. Figured. Reporters were second from the bottom, just above vampires, on the list of people Zach Smith disliked. He probably wouldn't have reacted any differently to the saleman's shenanigans if he'd known she was a reporter- she hadn't been goading the man, which was a mark in her favour- but he might not have tried to speak to her.
Still, the damage was done.
He shrugged. "Because they're idiots, most likely. Half the league's top tier players are women."
Zach folded his arms over his chest, frowning at the woman as she got all... reporter-y.
"No clue," he said gruffly. "Don't work in sales. I assumed commissions were a straight percentage based on the price. I do know if you order directly from the company, there's less of a mark-up for additional options on the broom. Though with the new Millenium I tried to make it a pretty loaded base model so a ton of add-ons aren't really necessary."
Cleansweep also cut corners, in his opinion, and were constantly trying to catch up to the innovations made by Nimbus and Firebolt. Zach found them pretty second rate. He kept his mouth shut, however; he knew better than to badmouth his competitor, on or off the record.
"'Fraid you have me at a disadvantage," he said, distracted by the scent that suddenly wafted toward him when she tilted her head. Was it her? It was peculiar, and he had to resist the urge to sniff deeply to find out more. Stupid wolf instincts still too close to the surface. "Though you look familiar."