You've been at the mall for the past three hours.

"No, princess, I can hold it," Lottie grins, hand sliding over to catch your wrist and semi-wrestling the bag off of you, the several others clutched in her grasp swinging all the while. And it's not like—cheap, or anything. Quite the opposite, actually; as the Tiffany, Fendi and whatever-the-fuck logos taunt you. Most of which Lottie thrust in your hands in the first place.

God—how much money is this girl willing to spend on you?