| Details for Customers Welcome! |
| Summary: | The apothecary gets a special order. |
| Date: | 16 September 1937 |
| Location: | Kilkenny Apothecary Shop |
| Related: | Nope. None. |
| Characters |
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Kilkenny Apothecary Shop Diagon Alley
Mon Sep 17, 1937 ((Mon Sep 17 00:00:21 2012)) (B,2 SE)
It is a summer night. The weather is hot and overcast.
The store's interior is packed full of goods, with barrels of Purple Toad Warts, Flobberworm Mucus, Leech Juice and other large quantities of potion ingredients on the floor. Jars containing Knotgrass, Aconite, Newt Eyes, Ground Scarab Beetles, as well as other herbs, roots, and brightly-colored powders line the walls. Bunches of feathers, fangs, and claws hang from the ceiling. The combination of smells coming from all these different ingredients combine to create an overall stench of bad eggs and rotten cabbages that permeates every corner of the store.
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Burning the midnight oil. Well, okay.. not really. The Apothecary has taken to later hours for one reason or another; reasons are the owner's own, but the upshot is, gaslights are a-burnin'. Niamh O'Shea is working, checking on shipments, pouring over a list of items written on parchment. She's got her wand out, of course, as the writing is encoded, lest it fall into muggle hands (which isn't very likely). So, with each page, she's got her 'translator', as it were, and her quill pen so to make marks. She sits behind her counter on a tall stool, elbow propped on the counter, ready to hold her cheek at any given moment, murmuring the manifest, "Newt noses, slug slime.. eohippus hooves.."
The door to the little shop pulls open, letting in a gust of warm summer air. A tall, thin man in a plain black robe slips inside, his face momentarily scrunching up as he absorbs the general smell of the place. He quickly recovers himself, though, and offers a smile to the apothecary. One hand goes up to his head to pull his hood down, revealing sharp features, grey eyes, and long brown hair. "Hullo, hullo. I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important, m'lady?"
Another couple of scribbles with the dipping of the quill, and with something of a flourish even as the newly entered begins to speak, Nia sets her feather down and looks up, her hazel eyes brightening the expression of welcome on her face. Flattery is always welcome, it seems! 'M'Lady'? She sits straighter in her chair, and she quirks her head, "Nothing that can't be interrupted, no. Unless you are in dire need of something I've only just been able to get my little hands on." Her tones turn towards that pleased-conspiratorial. New items are always fun and exciting! Even for an alchemist. Perhaps even moreso? "What can I get for you?" She's not even going to guess..
"Oh, I doubt that." Magnus stands in the doorway a moment more before reaching around to grasp the handle and make certain it's well-closed. He casually walks towards the counter, stopping once or twice to observe this or that strange object, the expression on his face clearly indicating that he's not actually here to browse. Once he's only a few feet from the counter and Niamh's stool, he stops and folds his hands in front of his waist, his pleasant smile lighting up his face again. "How long would it take you to prepare two polyjuice potions? Assuming I put the order in today, that is - when could it be ready?"
Nia watches the approach, and for a moment, stifles the urge to rise from her seat to take a step back, such is the presence. Still, he's a customer, and the smile that lights his face adds a softening of chiseled features. "Two polyjuice potions?" Her brows rise, though perhaps not why he may think. She's not the one to wonder why a potion is needed; it's more for.. a mental stock of ingredients. She's got a couple.. but now, she bites at her bottom lip and holds a finger in the air before she turns about to open something of a large tome. The pages appear… blank. (Her own little form of proprietary security.) She turns the pages, seemingly able to see what it written within.. and stops, her mouth forming words as she appears to read from a page. "Oh dear.." and again, she bites at her bottom lip. "It would take, in total.. a little over a month. Some of the ingredients I have, some have to be harvested. There's a certain shelf-life to some.. but that's not a problem, really." She waves her hand dismissively in the air. "If you put in the order now, I will have it for you in a month. I will, of course, need that bit of.. a person of whom the potion is intended to.. mimic."
The robed man waits patiently while the apothecary goes about her business, his hands still clasped at his waist, fingers steepled just a bit. He looks only mildly interested at the fact that her book appears to be blank - none of his business, really, and it seems sensible enough to take such precautions. When Niamh delivers her verdict, there's only the faintest hint of a downwards tug to the corners of his lips, then he smiles once more. "Excellent. It's a bit longer than I was expecting, but still completely within a reasonable time frame. As for those, erm, additional ingredients - I shall have them soon. Do you mind if I pay you now and deliver you the last two ingredients within the week, then?" Magnus glances over at her ledger, assuming it contains some kind of list of current stocks, and motions vaguely towards it. "If you need the time to gather the other reagents, I assume that shouldn't be too much trouble?"
"It may be two months if I have to stew the flies myself," Nia warns, but she brightens soon after. "I will see if I can't find some stock, however. I just don't get much call for it." She inclines her head, which turns into a nod. "The other ingredients are easy enough, and I have some of them here." She is, after all, in London. In Diagon Alley! "If you'd like to pay me now, that'd be fine. Or when you bring in those items later this week is fine as well. I should have a firm hold on time, then." And she may have already started some of the mixing!
"I don't mind paying you now, m'lady. I'm certain you're trustworthy." Magnus smiles emphatically, though the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He stuffs a gloved hand into his pocket, and produces a bulging pouch of coins. This he sets on the counter and pulls its drawstring, allowing a number of galleons to spill out. "Take whatever you think is fair."
Nia's been an Apothecary for more than a few years (thus the jokes about her being a spinster!), and she knows what her time is worth. Her fees are fair, certainly.. and the attention to the potion is really the driving force of her pricing, as well as the ingredients, obviously. It's a modest mark-up, and added to the time that she knows she'll need to attend the production, she has a figure in hand. Reaching across, she picks out a few and slides them across, though she doesn't take all of them that have spilled. "Two potions.. and let me get your receipt for that." She smiles brightly, and with the Irish lass, it does make it to those eyes, and she retakes her quill.. and looks thoughtfully at the gent before her. "Invisible ink or is India Ink fine?"
Magnus watches the girl subtract her fee from the coins on the counter; once she's finished, he pushes a few more galleons towards her, then pulls the drawstring taut and lets the purse slip back into his pocket. "Those are for the bother of acquiring the ingredients you don't normally keep in stock." He watches her thoughtfully, his own expression softening a little in response to hers. "You have a lovely smile, Miss. And please, invisible ink, if you would be so kind." Since their business is nearly concluded, he pulls his hood back up, concealing most of his face in its shadow. "Oh, and please make the order for 'Caesar'." He pronounces the name in the same way as the famous dictator.
Invisible ink it is. Nia pulls the inkwell closer to her and dips her quill in as she pulls a piece of parchment from beneath the desk. It's got the proper.. properties. Writing everything out in ank fluid hand, she catches the name and, in flowing strokes, finishes it quickly. She looks up, and smiles such that her nose scrunches a bit. "Thank you. My brother says I do it a bit much, but I find it never hurts a sale." And one can never tell what it can bring! "There's your receipt.. and thank you again." She takes the extra galleons and sets them aside, down below, separate for the orders. "Is there anything else? And.. I will expect you later this week, then.."