( having never been to the apothecary before, aristaeus pauses to survey his surroundings. his eyes drawn initially to the bunches of herbs left out to dry, hanging from the ceiling like botanical chandeliers, swaying gently. next, to the shelves lining the space, with their neat rows of glass jars, labeled in what's presumably rubean. )
Nice place you have here. Cozy. ( dipping his head at quentin, finally, in lieu of a greeting. )
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Nice place you have here. Cozy. ( dipping his head at quentin, finally, in lieu of a greeting. )