I made a quick assessment, but I didn't give up and leave.
I asked the clerk, "We came here today because we wanted to buy a fountain pen."
The smile vanished from the clerk's face, and she looked at us suspiciously.
"When we bought the lotus before, you said it wasn't in stock and that we'd have to wait a few days. Do you have any here?"
"Fountain pens?" The clerk still seemed a little suspicious, but not enough to make her wary or defensive.
I guessed she might have taken us for reporters or something. Though she suspected there was something off about our identity and all our questions, she didn't seem put off by us.
She still wanted to make a sale.
I glanced at the Skinny Guy.
He caught on right away. "Baron Little George's fountain pen."
I added, "That's the one."
The clerk's expression relaxed again. "Those have to be specially ordered. Did you place an order at the other store?"
Neither the Skinny Guy nor I answered. A brief silence fell.
The clerk looked at us, puzzled once more.
"No. They said it would take a few days to arrive, so we left," I replied.
"Then you'll need to place an order first. I can help you with that here." The clerk tapped a few keys on the computer. "If you want us to hold one for you, you'll need to pay a deposit. Otherwise, you just need to give us a phone number. It'd be best to sign up for our membership, too. Then you'll get a notification when it arrives. It's very convenient."
She seemed like a conscientious salesperson, diligently doing her job.
"How many are there?" I didn't answer her. Instead, I asked that.
"I'll check." The clerk looked at the computer