claire, eight. fin cb.

It started at the overcrowded, plastic lunchroom tables in grade school, scamming the 'more fortunate' kids out of their snacks. In all honesty, something in which she struggles, it wasn't even on purpose. She just got tired of the shitty school pizza. It gave her a stomachache and despite not being the most gifted student, she was sure that wasn't actual cheese. And so she talked it up a little to those who could afford to bring food from home, swapped their fruit slices and triangle-cut sandwiches for whatever was on her tray. 

In seventh grade, she began an underground pencil-selling scheme. A poorly thought out plan, but everyone's critical thinking skills haven't quite developed yet and Claire could talk the thread out of a sweater.

They had no chance, really. 

Luckily for them, she moved on from tricking children out of five bucks and onto bigger and better things. And by things, she started knocking on the door of old folk's homes, talked them out of a few 'useless' things and sold them for more than they were worth.

It was simple.

Just required a silver tongue and an eye for business. Both of which she had and excelled with. Eight never saw her coming.