“Covention” Was Not a Typo

Erwin was growing concerned. The... lady in front of him narrowed her eyes. In the background, he saw a striking woman in flowing crimson-and-black robes stride by, engaged in earnest conversation with what looked like a tumbleweed wearing a rag dress.

"The other boy told me he was getting a manager," croaked the customer, drawing Erwin's attention. "My cauldron lost in luggage in Mississauga, and now you don't have my reservation? Unacceptable! I demand a free voucher." She drummed her fingers on the counter.

Erwin opened his mouth to protest but glanced to the side, where Tyrone sat, newly small and green. "Ribbit," Tyrone said urgently, shaking his head.