Tracey half-closed her eyes and looked away as measuring the distance between her seat and his drink and her practiced smile never wavered. There were days when she could so easily hate Alexander Bole for his callousness. A slap on the wrist. Having the control she'd fought tooth and nail to have over her own life and fortune taken away was a slap on the wrist? Being punished for following the traditional Slytherin path of ambition and careful planning was a slap on the wrist? She would like to see Alexander Bole be so complacent if he were in her shoes. "I have no intention of rocking the boat, Alex. I have enough on my plate with my apprenticeship."
She could be patient. It had taken her eighteen years to claw her way out of the slums on the edge of the Thames. She could wait for the rules to relax or, if it came to it, for the opportunity to leave the country. She didn't want to leave Britain. This was her home and what few friends and meager bits of family she had were here, but if push came to shove her own life and freedom came first. But that was a thought for another day.
"Let's try the new shop. I'm not in the mood to be molested by that possessed measuring tape. It always gets just a little too friendly."