Fiona was often up in the middle of the night these days. She had a restless energy, she wasn't entirely sure where it came from, and she found herself more often than not creeping down from the little flat above her mother's shop to sneak into the larder just behind the man shop and try to find a midnight snack or something else to keep her attention.
She'd come to expect the soft chiming of glass on glass as she crept her way through the shop proper and the storeroom. What she hadn't expected was the ticking, scratching sound of something foreign in the front door's lock, or the scrape of the wood as it swung open.
Her eyes went wide, pupils dilating in an effort to adjust to the darkness, and she pressed back against the far wall of the front room. Her gaze darted about, finally landing on a long, thin stick hung on the coat rack by the stairs that led up to the flat. Without thinking, she grabbed it, holding it aloft as she crept cautiously toward the intruder.
The figure in the darkness was...slight, she supposed was the right word. She could probably take them.
Drawing in a fortifying breath, she leaped forward and swung her impromptu weapon around in what she hoped was a threatening manner. "Alright, who the hell are you and what are you doing in here?" She tried to put a growl in her voice but wasn't sure if she succeeded. Brandishing the stick again, she added, "Talk fast, I don't wanna have to use this..."
Parasol.
As her eyes fully adjusted to the near nonexistent light, she realized she was holding her mother's parasol. Wonderful.