Sierra smiled. "I don't need the batteries, I have my own. Just the clock will be fine."
When the shopkeeper heard Sierra say she had her own batteries, he clearly faltered for a moment.
But he quickly started smiling again.
"You have some, but how many could you possibly have? We have to think long-term—"
"Plenty!" Sierra cut him off again. "Don't tell me you won't sell the clock if I don't buy your batteries?"
"Of course not! How could that be possible!"
The shopkeeper denied it profusely.
"I was just looking out for you, but since you said you don't need them, never mind. I'll go get the clock for you right now."
Sierra nodded in satisfaction. "Alright, go get it. We'll wait here."
The shopkeeper turned and went into the back room. He came out again moments later, holding a long, rectangular box.
"Do you want to open it and check it?"
Sierra nodded matter-of-factly. "Of course."
'Before the apocalypse, there was after-sales service.'
'But now, there's no such thing.'
