Work Text:
“Well, look at you, all got up above yourself,” the butcher sneered. “Still won't be getting any handouts here. Get out before you stink up the place.”
Jenny squared her shoulders. “Begging your pardon, sir, but my mistress sent me to pick up her order, and she'll be ever so cross if you don't have it.”
The butcher stared at her in shock as she provided Vastra's note. Not the coin though. He could wait for that, as he and his like had made her wait for scraps over the years. Some would say she should take her custom elsewhere. Some wouldn't understand the perfect revenge if it stabbed them with a very long sword.
As he returned with the very carefully wrapped meats, Jenny smiled wickedly. The butcher looked at her not quite nervously but not at all the way he had before. He named his price.
“I'm sorry, but that can't be right,” she said. Did he think she didn't know her numbers?
In the end, she paid half what he'd asked, a good three pence below what it was meant to cost in any case.
Now for the next challenge: convincing Vastra that meat tasted just as well if not better once cooked properly.