(no subject)

[sunnydalealum]

She's turned the sign on the door to the side that says SORRY WE'RE CLOSED. It's technically after business hours, but that's just as well; it means they won't be interrupted. This is not the first customer to prefer his privacy, and won't be the last.

Alcina sits behind the counter, going through the day's accounts, and waits for the knock.

Comments

[nomorekaraoke]

He's a veritable enigma - a Pylean so far removed from his Viking-slash-ZZ Top wannabe kith and kin he could charm the socks off of anyone with a heart (and a funny bone).

"Music. Scotch whiskey. Perfume bottles." He waggles his eyebrows. "Only, not really. But set me down in the middle of the Meatpacking District and honey, I'm like a kid in a candy store."

Idle chatter, again, but not out of any kind of heebies this time. Maybe he's like this all the time. Shock, horror.

[sunnydalealum]

Completing the transaction goes smoothly. She gives him a short list of names and contact numbers culled from her go-to book, and carefully wraps the tiny bottle in a bubble-wrap before boxing it up for him.

"Now, do you want to pay for these now, and I'll bill you for the spell when we deliver it? Or do you want to start an account here, and you can pay for the spell in advance, at a discount?"

The itemized list of charges adds up to rather a high figure.

[nomorekaraoke]

It only takes him a moment to decide; it isn't a difficult decision to make, not at all in lieu of the things he's already gone through tonight. Paying the piper is the easy bit.

"Start me up under the name Green, would you? I hope using an alias won't be a problem."

[sunnydalealum]

"Not at all," she says, with a smile.

Though he may be one of her only customers to ask before giving an alias.

[nomorekaraoke]

He's a special snowflake. Everyone knows it. And as for the alias, it's so obviously a fake, there's no use pretending it isn't, is there?

"Grand." He'll stand by the counter and again watch Alcina. "You really are a darling."

[sunnydalealum]

"Just part of the service," she says, but her smile as she rings up the sale is very appreciative.

A last few formalities -- cash or credit, and so on -- and finally she's handing him a plastic bag with his box in it, his receipt, and a courteous thank-you-and-have-a-good-night.

[nomorekaraoke]

"Tootles!" Putting his fedora back on, coat still hanging over his arm, Lorne goes out into the night again, the bag clutched in one big green hand like a lifeline. Somehow, braving the darkness doesn't feel as ominously threatening anymore.

Just another day's work at Alcina's Things.