Another weekend in Nocwich, another shopping list not of Michael's making in hand. Some of the names of those asking him to play courier change month to month, but others stay the same. Old Josie is a regular. Her requests vary depending on what local celebrations are taking place in Solvunn—this month her wishlist includes a few exotic blooms, special Spring Equinox gifts for close friends of the family—alongside her usual medicinal needs.
Which means Michael is back in the same werewolf-owned and run potions shop he invariably ends up visiting at least once over the weekend. He's almost got their scent-based sorting system down, he thinks, but they seem to find reason to reorganize at least one set of shelves every month.
Somehow, it's always the one item he's after that's not where it was last time.
Pick a vial off a shelf, read the label, remark that it's not what he needs, put it back. Rinse and repeat. It's between sequences that Michael notes movement out of the corner of his eye, beyond the glass of the front window. He looks up—and locks eyes with none other than Jo, who doesn't look to be in any better a mood than the last time he saw her.
Just his luck. They have got to stop meeting like this.
no subject
Which means Michael is back in the same werewolf-owned and run potions shop he invariably ends up visiting at least once over the weekend. He's almost got their scent-based sorting system down, he thinks, but they seem to find reason to reorganize at least one set of shelves every month.
Somehow, it's always the one item he's after that's not where it was last time.
Pick a vial off a shelf, read the label, remark that it's not what he needs, put it back. Rinse and repeat. It's between sequences that Michael notes movement out of the corner of his eye, beyond the glass of the front window. He looks up—and locks eyes with none other than Jo, who doesn't look to be in any better a mood than the last time he saw her.
Just his luck. They have got to stop meeting like this.