Man About Town [Open]

[jointheclub]

A. Wandsworth

Tucked away down an unassuming little street, an innocent dilapidated building sat as it always had, and probably always would, as far as mortal eyes were concerned. They would never see the sign over the door, which itself looked as if it had seen better days: an S crossed with two bars. Spells sat on this sign and this building, an illusion that shielded it from mundane view and revealed itself to the supernatural.

This, then, was the Apothecarium of Horace E. F. Slughorn, now open for business.

Inside, the portly old witch puttered about a dozen or so cauldrons, humming quietly to himself as he added a pinch of this or a dash of that. While a younger and less-experienced brewer would hew closely to a written recipe, carefully measuring out each ingredient and confirming each step twice before proceeding, Slughorn had long passed that step. Like any skill, potionmaking became more instinctive with practice. Just as a skilled driver did not need to consciously think about stepping on the accelerator, or a skilled marksman did not need to consciously order his muscles to squeeze a trigger, so too did Slughorn not need a recipe or a cup to tell him when seven pinches of basil or six counterclockwise stirs would suffice.

So curious colors and fantastic smells filled the air, all different but never quite in painful opposition, as Slughorn prepared the first of his stock for his new business.

Now Open.

B. A Well-Earned Rest.

Evening found Slughorn quite comfortable enshrined in a comfortable corner of a tavern, a pint on the table by his side and fingers digging through a tin of crystallized pineapple for the finest pieces. Not an unusual sight, unless one were other than human. The same spells that protected his sign also protected the chair he had casually smuggled in earlier in the day. The ordinary patrons, the bartender, the passers-by all saw it as just another wooden affair that seemed lucky it could bear the witch's weight -- never suspecting the true form that keener eyes could see, a comfortable armchair well-suited for a man of his age and girth.

Part of Slughorn's good cheer, then, came from getting one over on the mundanes. But to those who could see the truth, well, it was hard to ask for a more incongruous sight.

Comments

[jointheclub]

"Everything old is new again, they say. I don't believe there's been a branch of the family apothecarium in London since... oh, 1779 or so? Great-great-uncle of mine, give or take a great. Never married, though. No point it continuing it once he passed." Slughorn rambled on as he swept a cauldron to the side with a casual air, leaving its contents to reduce over a low fire. "So, might as well be new, eh?"

He took the time during this verbal performance to appraise her. Bit old to have passed on and left an imprint this way, so his question was a casual way of feeling out her true age. No terrible presence, not obviously malicious. Still, she might have an agenda...

[warmheartedly]

"The seventeen hundreds? Goodness! That is a long time to not have had a part of the family business running here." Judging by her surprise to hear the year alone, and the modern clothes she wore from her sensible flats to her blouse, she's very much a ghost from 'recent' times. "So you're saying all of this--"

She gestures to the items and looks around, peering at the bottles and items with wide eyes. "--are all part of a family business? I must say that's quite impressive, sir."

[jointheclub]

"Oh, not here here. The line hails from up north and all. A lot of business by --" He paused, coughed, and dug up the mundane term very quickly in that moment. "Mail order. Good, reliable potions and elixirs are always in demand by those in the know, after all."

[warmheartedly]

"Now I'm trying to imagine a catalogue for all of this," she jokes, smiling at him sweetly as she showed interested amusement at the thought of these vials and bottles and parcels being sent through mail order. Discretion must be guaranteed. "So I take it that you know of the... the others here then?"

It's obvious who she means considering what she is herself. Werewolves, witches, and vampires. Anyone whose family has been supplying these items for so long must be in the know.

[jointheclub]

"They're hardly news. Been crawling around London for centuries." Slughorn sniffed in faint disdain. "Can't say this is the first time someone has tried to put order to the city either. I don't expect much to come of it."

[warmheartedly]

"I guess you have an advantage over me then! I'm still doing my best to understand." She's only been around for more than a decade and has barely scratched the surface over the while community.

In fact, she seems a bit lost of when he mentions how someone is trying to put 'order' to the city and how this isn't the first time. Oh? That's new to her for sure. "Well-- I hope it goes well if only for everyone's sake. Who knows? Maybe it can help out your business in the long run. More people more comfortable going out, more people coming here and buying your wonderful items."

[jointheclub]

Slughorn saw his chance and took it with the ruthless professionalism of a lifelong collector. "You ought to come by my gatherings," he said, the glint in his eyes belying his casual tone. "A little group I like to convene every so often. Certainly not confined only to witches, you'd be welcome... yes, very welcome. And informative."

[warmheartedly]

"Oh!" She smiles nervously because she doesn't mind being invited to things, it's quite nice, actually, to be acknowledged for once, but she isn't used to such sudden offers.

Especially from people she's just met. Maybe she's just overreacting to a nice man's attempt to be welcoming. She shouldn't overanalyse this. "It would be very nice to go then, sir. It'll be a great deal of help to me and I'll be in your favour in return then for your kindness!"