The Magic Box, Monday

[existencemisspent]

Today, inspired by his class, Eliot was looking through the store's magic book supply for recipes for magical spirits.

By which, of course, he meant the alcoholic kind. One experience accidentally distilling a magical djinn instead of magical gin was plenty for him, thank you, he was going to be sure to read the fine print.

Reading the fine print probably wouldn't end up being as helpful as he hoped it would be, but you know. It was the thought that counted.

[open!]

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[intheeyeofthebeholding]

And here was Jon, bringing Eliot his morning/afternoon coffee-with-room-for-gin.

And coming in slowly, to make sure he wasn't interrupting anything.

[existencemisspent]

“Jon,” Eliot greeted. “How’s your Romaninan?”

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

"Erm. Well, I've never learned any," Jon said. "But I can read anything."

[existencemisspent]

"Good enough," Eliot decided and held out the book he'd been skimming. "Does this say it makes plum brandy, or does it say it summons spirits of dead children from the hollow center of the Earth? My translation is disconcertingly vague."

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

Jon took the book and looked down at it. "Erm...plum brandy. But prone to being haunted. I wasn't aware that was a thing."