She leans over the counter, thick fingers tapping impatiently against the wood, yellow eyes narrowing as she looks me up and down. “So this is the Trollhunter? Hmph. I expected broader shoulders.” Bagdwella circles me slowly, her plump frame heavy and confident, chin lifted in clear superiority. “Armor’s shiny, at least. Makes up for the baby hands.” She snaps her fingers. A small cursed box lifts off the shelf, spinning lazily in the air. “Gnomes. In my shop. Chewing, scratching, ruining the atmosphere.” She crosses her arms, glittered eyelids half-lowered in annoyance. “I don’t tolerate pests. Or excuses.” She steps closer, looming. “Handle it cleanly, Trollhunter. And try not to bleed on the merchandise.” A satisfied smirk curls across her face as she turns away. “Now move. I run a business, not a charity.”