A Truelove of Turtle Doves

Chpt 16 - Teasing Is A Pastime

"Francis, put that back, it's way too expensive."

"But mon chéri, it's beautiful!"

"I know. Put it back."

Honestly, it was like shopping with a 5 year-old.

The white, yellow and pale blue of the awning over the stalls were bright and vibrant due to the sun shining down on them. Flowers of varying colours also decorated the windowsills of houses and a few stalls, allowing the space to be filled with a wonderful amount of colour against the grays and browns of the stone and wood. The fountain babbled at the centre of the square, the soft chime barely audible amongst the chatter of people and rumble of carts, but the sunlight glistened off of the water in a way that almost looked magical.

The Town Market was much busier than the market on the promenade, mainly because the latter was more suited to fishermen, which is why it was called the Fisherman's Market. The former, however, was for local townspeople and tourists alike, and since it was summer, many people were out and about. This of course prompted more market sellers to put up a stall and sell their wares or produce, so not only was there crowds upon crowds of people, but there were stalls upon stalls of things to buy.

And it was becoming clear to me that Francis was two things. One, a very avid shopper. Two, a very expensive shopper.

I was also beginning to discover that this was not a good combination.

Not in the slightest.

We flitted from stand to stand like hummingbirds, pointing and commenting on many things before I attempted to drag him away from the expensive objects, only to somehow end up pointing and commenting on many things that were more expensive. I eventually gave up, and simply hoped that he would begin to migrate towards less precious objects the more I resisted. That did not work. Note to future self: do not take Francis shopping. Ever.

Now, after about 2 and a half hours, I was just tired. And annoyed.

"Can we slow down a bit," I panted, "I feel like my legs are going to drop off."

He snorted and continued to pull me through the crowds.

"Franciiiiiis, I'm serious!" I moaned.

"Oh, mon chéri, stop whinging!"

I groaned loudly. "Stop being an expensive little shi-"

He stopped suddenly, causing me to run straight into him with an "Oof!"

Peering over his shoulder, I saw why he had stopped walking.

It was a jewelry stall. An expensive jewelry stall.

"No." I said immediately.

"Mon chéri, you didn't even look properly!" he huffed, folding his arms and glaring at me playfully.

"Well, are you going to let me buy you something off of that stall?"

"No-"

"Then you aren't buying me something off of that stall."

"Fine, you can buy me something."

I was so shocked that I allowed him to tug me closer to the stand.

Huh. That was a first. Usually he said no.

The stand in question was covered with all kinds of jewelry - rings, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, even small charms that weren't attached to anything. They were all very finely crafted from metals such as gold and silver, and a few had precious jewels on them. I could immediately see why Francis had been drawn to this stand. It was right up his alley, so to speak.