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“Nooooo.” You feel through your collection of loose change again. Humans have an entirely uneccessary variety of coins, but at least they are all different sizes. “My precious candy.”
Cute-John-The-Cashier-Guy (who was very hilariously good-natured about letting you grope his nametag) sounds bemused. "Um, you realize you are like seven dollars short, right?“
“BUT. I am only ONE dollar short for the delicious red nutrition sticks,” you inform him. Quarter, quarter, nickel, dime! Wait, no that’s a penny. Damn.
“You could buy a smaller size?” Cashier-John suggests.
You clutch your family multipack to your chest. "Gasp!“ you say, in your most aghast voice. "You would deprive a poor helpless blind girl of her full allotment of candy?”
“Dude, I SAW you clothesline that dude with your cane.”
Oh, the asshole holding up the line to complain incessantly about store policies. You purse your lips innocently. “That was an accident. An accident of great justice.”
Cashier-John laughs. It’s a nice sound, full-bodied, unselfconscious, zero dignity. "Uh huh.“ The sound comes closer as he leans forward over the counter, still snickering. "Hey, wanna see a magic trick? Or feel, I guess.”
You flash all your sharp teeth at him, and like the way he catches his breath, but doesn’t back off. “I would love to feel your tricks, Mr. Cute Cashier.”
He makes a noise like “pfft.” His fingers press briefly flat to yours, like a wiggler clapping game– “–nothing in my hands!” –and then one hand brushes close by your face, fingers ghosting behind your ear.
You like him so much you don’t even bite him.
“Ta-dah!” he announces, and deposits a quarter into your hand. He slides his fingers apart, and the second quarter he had tucked behind it appears against your palm as well. “Is this the candy money you were looking for?”
You applaud. "That was extremely magical, Mr. Magic Hands. I am impressed. Would you like to see MY magic trick?“
You can hear the smile in his voice. You want to lick it off his face. “And what’s that?”
You hold up your giant multipack of twizzlers and wiggle your eyebrows provocatively. "I can tie them in knots with my tongue."
John makes a choking noise that breaks into another full-bodied laugh. "Oh my god.“
You lean in until your nose bumps against his. "Think you can find your number behind my ear?”
“Haha, oh my god, yes.” He snickers, right against your mouth. “Probably faster than making you tie yours out of twizzlers, anyway.”
You beam at him all shark teeth, and mentally table that challenge to return to later.