And I don't even try to argue with things like "individuality" and "expression of personality". I explained about the Muggles once before on a blog. "Would you like me to smell like you?" "Why not?" Schnucki's expression reflects absolute incomprehension. Honey's idea of appropriate scent dosage is below the threshold of perception. It sounds almost solemn "But Light Blue is your perfume!" Not that I ever smelled it on her. But today I am also really slow to grasp. I look, involuntarily stepping on the brakes, look again, this time longer. A cardboard box in the most beautiful sky blue appears, which she waves under my nose. "When I stop driving, okay?" Schnucki sighs, takes the parcel from my lap and winds it up. "Oh - for me?" I ask and add hastily, because that was of course a stupid question, "How nice! What is it?" "What does it look like?" asks Precious and rolls her eyes. So I start the engine and gently ask, "What is this?" In any case, caution is advised when dealing with her. Schnucki embodies what I like to think of an Amazon in less complicated times she would probably have cut off her breast to avoid getting in her way while archery, but times have become more complicated and so she is content to pierce her unhappy counterpart with glances despite her lovely appearance or at least to put a few well-chosen words to flight. She has a name that expresses her mother's vain hope for female gentleness, and she would probably tear my head off if she found out about the pseudonym I gave her here. In real life, of course, her name is not Precious. "There!" she says and plops down on the seat next to me. My friend Schnucki tears open the door of the passenger side and throws a package on my lap.
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