"Shove off." You say. "I told you, you're not getting my necklace. Telling me how poor my artwork and my life attitude is, that I need to get a life, and that I can't handle reality...that isn't the best way to get what you want. Shouting at me that I can't tell you no are the best ways to get decked. I've already had to put up with one jerk like you. Get out of my gallery before I call the cops on you, too."
She looks at you, her eyes burning even deadlier than yours. But after a moment the fire dies, and in its place is a fatal fear. She backs up, slowly, as if the possessions were reversed...as if you are the predator and she, the prey. You make the connection between her behavior and her fear; she is a predator, you were her prey. But she's not used to prey standing up to her like this. She expected to be able to manipulate you. Instead, you threw her attitude in her own face, excersized what little power you have in these situations and she suddenly realized that she can't handle you.
"You'll be regretful that you ever offended me this way." She says. "You'll regret it until the day you die." But she's still backing up.
"You'll never come back here." You say. "Ever. Or else YOU'LL be the one who regrets it. City cops don't treat Harassment cases with kid gloves...you'll spend a large portion of this next year in jail."
She blinks...and you do too. You guess that all the practice with Arthur is what's letting you stand up to this woman and not back down. You're correct. Your Arthur-sharpened glare is what's making her back out of your shop. Without another word, she leaves...she almost runs away!
Sighing heavily with your own brand of relief, you sag against the counter and pray that no one ELSE shows up today, ready to take what they can't ever have.
And then you realize that your hands are itching again.
The scales are pushing their way out, row by row. But even the first few rows of scales are itching, turning darker. Your skin underneath the still transparent scales is darkening too, and your nails are turning opaque and thickening. Your palms are itching, and you see row after row of scales pushing their way out.
You turn your hands back over and see the top scales melting together, forming a thicker plate and turning an almost opalescent black. You feel a deeper itching deep in your fingertips and down between your middle and ring fingers. They seem to stiffen, come closer together.
And once again, it stops after a few moments of change, just like the last time.
What next?