Pick Your Poison, Thursday

[witchoftheflesh]

It was weird in the shop today. Just a shade too quiet and a bit too empty. It wasn't like Pam had constantly been in the shop when he was, but knowing that she wasn't puttering around upstairs or out in the garden made the shop feel...off.

Which meant that Adrian was opening the doors and windows to let in the cold and fresh air and playing music loudly to try to make the place feel a little more alive.

Yeah, obviously it was prog rock. He grew up in a witch commune. Prog rock had been inescapable.

Comments

[pocketpretzels]

Watts had gone for a bit of a wander about the island following lunch, and so when he saw the shop open, he poked his head in- quickly followed by the rest of him. Within seconds he also had a bit of greenery plucked from one of the plants twirling between his fingers.

"Good afternoon," he greeted once he spotted Adrian.

[witchoftheflesh]

"Good afternoon," Adrian said, his eyes on the twirling leaf for a second before bouncing up to Watts' own. "Welcome to Pick Your Poison. What can I do for you?"

[pocketpretzels]

"The infamous Mr. Blackwood, I presume?" Watts checked.

[witchoftheflesh]

A raised eyebrow. "I hadn't realized I was infamous," he said slowly. "In what way? Though you do have me at a disadvantage, Mr...?"

[pocketpretzels]

"Detective, actually," Watts corrected. "Llewellyn Watts. Your employer had many positive things to say regarding your products in order to entice me in to purchasing some."

[witchoftheflesh]

Adrian's brow - and a great deal of his consternation - cleared at that. "She did?" he asked with a smile. "I'll have to thank her. What did she suggest, Detective? And did it live up to the hype?"

It bloody well should. Pick Your Poison got much of the same stock as the Denizens of Heaven, after all, and the family's literal survival was on the line for those.

[pocketpretzels]

"A pomade for my hair," Watts said, removing his hat briefly. "And if by 'the hype' you mean does it perform as advertised, then yes."

[witchoftheflesh]

"Ah, excellent," Adrian said, smile broadening. "Pleased to hear it. Are you looking for anything else? I just stocked a new shipment of nice shaving soaps."

[pocketpretzels]

"I admit my intent was only to satisfy my curiosity regarding yourself," Watts confessed.

[witchoftheflesh]

"Me?" Adrian couldn't help but glance behind him, like there might be someone else standing behind his shoulder. "I hate to say it, but I promise, Detective, I'm far less interesting than my cat."

Boston has his own TikTok with an impressive number of viewers. Not that Adrian knew that.

Yet.

[pocketpretzels]

"Does your cat also manufacture soaps and the like?" Watts asked, twirling the bit of greenery he'd picked up between his fingers.

[witchoftheflesh]

"He does help," Adrian said with a small grin. "Mostly by supervising, mind, but also with the occasional enchantment."

[pocketpretzels]

".... Enchantment?" Watts asked with some trepidation, reaching up to touch a lock of hair that was peeking out from beneath his hat.

[witchoftheflesh]

"Some of our cosmetics are magic in nature," Adrian said. "Your pomade isn't, if that was your sudden concern."

[pocketpretzels]

"Nothing against magic, I'm just not- accustomed to it," Watts told him.

[witchoftheflesh]

Adrian couldn't help but give a disbelieving chuckle at that. "You live on a magical island," he pointed out. "How are you not accustomed to it?"

[pocketpretzels]

"Because I've lived the majority of my life in a world without magic, and despite living here now, do not possess the ability to manipulate it myself," Watts said.

Yes, he lived in a house that was actually an extra-dimensional being but that wasn't magic.