Wasn’t clear if they’d really listened to her or were just going after the food - prolly the second one, which she totally got; she wasn’t a come-when-called kinda girl herself, but waft some rich choc biccies or Macca fries and she was all over that. Really, the only thing better’n sweets or takeout was pretty silky scarves. Her mum had one that she saved for special dates, mostly, and now that Paige was a teenager she hoped she’d let her borrow it, even if only just to wear ‘round the flat - she imagined it’d make any outfit feel like being a princess. But anyways, however it went, a coupla glummies were already starting to nose up to her glove. Paige beamed at her success.
And then did a right flip to not-beaming when there came a sound backstage that sounded awfully like the posters for her Uncle Noah’s bar. The way she understood it, The Knothole was basically famous in Sydney for their Banshee Brew, and she hadn’t gotten a super good look at the posters downtown ‘fore Mum hauled her off muttering something about idiot men (something she often commented on, but this time was triggered by the poster; apparently real banshees didn’t have giant boobs) but she didn’t need to look at it to hear it. That shriek was in her dreams for life.
Turning quickly, she put together that Rhia was doing the shrieking and also looked like she was tryna hide from the bees in plain sight. Oh, oh, she could help! Her romper pockets were narrow, which made them useless for bulky things like gloves, but her wand was short enough to fit fine. Pulling it out as she darted over, Paige did a shriek too except using a word instead of just the sound of nightmares. “Protego!” Sometimes her spellwork went a little wild but this time it went right...ish. It woulda been better if she’d made it to Rhia before the bees, but the shield at least cut the swarm in two, and those on the wrong side seemed determined to fly off as fast and far away as their fat lil wings could manage.
“Soz Rhi, you good?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d asked someone if they were OK twice in such a short time. Poor Rhia was having a ripe day of it. “No worries, they won’t sting ya so long’s you don’t swipe at ‘em,” she offered sagely, more out of optimism than an actual promise, though anyone expecting sure promises when it came to critters with minds of their own was on the wrong toe. “You scared of bees, then? Hey,” she continued, now thinking out loud and hopefully in a helpful way, “maybe Cloud can do some kinda hamster ball thing? Like, there’s gotta be bubble charms not just for heads, if that’d do ya.”