“It's only a watch,” the red-headed woman insisted.
Abe just stared, flummoxed. Theft negotiation was not his forte. “Why does it matter to you?” he snapped. He suddenly felt tired--exhausted--and whatever this woman was playing at--was she flirting with him?--he didn't understand it. “I said you could name your price! It's sure to be more than you could sell it for!”
She studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether she should let him in on a secret. “What is your name, Englishman?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Such a strong name! Mine is Celine. Or sometimes Cece, to those who love me.” She folded her arms and stared him down. “If you really think I would sell the Coulise watch for mere money, well, you're more stupid than you look, Monsieur.”