((OOC: Aymé has a very heavy southern accent. I'll let ya'll imagine it, 'cause writin' it out might make ya poor head hurt. BTW, I really am from Georgia, so I'm not being facetious. Okay, well, maybe I am.))
Aymé fluttered around her shop, which was on the corner of the two busiest streets in the bustling trade town of Cerenis. Business was oddly slow today; there were three tourists and one real customer in the shop. The tourists were stumbling around looking at Aymé's wonderful creations and the one girl in her early twenties was trying on a new dress. It was red, Aymé's favorite color, tea-length, and bunched up around the stomach area, "room to grow" as Aymé put it because everyone in town knew she was pregnant.
Tourist 1: Miss, your clothes are lovely, but they're so expensive! How do you afford to have such an excellent location for your, um, boutique?
Aymé smirked at that. She loved telling this story.
Aymé: Well, I was datin' the landlord of this here building, so he gave me a discounted price in exchange for my... affection. Then after we broke up, his sister had something very unfortunate happen to her wedding dress the day before her wedding, so I made her a new one that looked so much like the old one, she said she almost thought it was the same dress! Imagine that! Anyways, ever since then, I've gotten dirt cheap rent.
The three tourist ladies looked at each other and tittered. Oh, to be in the presence of so sophisticated and so selfless a person that she dropped what she was doing to make that nice woman a wedding dress. Of course, they didn't know that Aymé had stolen the dress in the first place, but that's why tourists are great. You can get away with telling them anything.