The rain had hammered like anxiously pounding knuckles upon the roof for the better part of a day now. The summer thunderheads loomed like gallows over the city and warded off many of the passerby that often trekked by the shop's windows. Currently, the only patrons that had slipped through the door were often those merely seeking to escape the tyranny of the weather. Some browsed the shelves while waiting for a more favorable time to continue their trips and even purchased some few baubles. One such group were several young ladies, convoluting about the shelf titled love potions. While he knew the bottles to contain a mere juice, the thought had always amused him, a common humor his father must have impressed upon him as the item was a staple among his own goods.

The majority of his time today was spent tallying the inventory, a process done when the moon began to grow within the heavens, preparations done and made for the lunar madness that came. His doors would remain open, of course, but instead of he, another would greet any customers that emerged during that evening and sometimes a day or two after while he recovered himself. The minutes had turned to hours as he compared the count he'd made with the records of his sales, letters ran together, melding in a blurring line.

He wasn't sure when it happened, to be honest, but at some point he had managed to doze off. The disturbance that roused him being the delicate but clarion chime of the bell over the main entrance portal. He would jerk to his senses, almost violently as his head shot up, a grimace marring his features as he pressed a hand to his forehead faintly, covering all too sensitive eyes from the illumination that glared off his counter top. A light grunt left him as the motion then transformed into a stretch instead, whatever semblance of cover surely blown in regards to his unintentional nap. "Pardon, were you still open?" Came the voice of the elderly woman, one that appeared to be a bit on the nervous side as she did not move beyond the mat upon the floor, allowing the door to quietly shut behind her.

A frown formed upon his mouth as he took note of the storm had picked back up, leaving the poor woman's clothing dripping upon the floor. "Yes, of course." He lied, noting that by the darkness (in spite of the lingering clouds) that the entryway should have been locked by now. Though he wouldn't turn the elder back to the street given the circumstances, and thanks to his negligence, he did still have work to complete before he left for the night. A task his focus turned back to as he motioned vaguely to the crackle of the fireplace, "Please, make yourself at home." She didn't make her way there, however, instead she came closer to the counter, her shifting footfalls coming into his peripherals, though at first she did not speak. It caused him to once again lift his attention to her, an ear twitching faintly. "Oh, my apologies, Miss. Were you looking for something in particular?" The woman would hesitate again, a visible distress as if she were doing something she wasn't supposed to.

Her request was simple enough, but in the same breath vexing. A dismissal over one's well being resting heavily upon her shoulders and an equally banished worry that refused to simply be. Even more distressing was the fact that he had to now venture out into the abyssal torrents. By the time they reached the tavern door, his cloak matched the likeness of the elderly woman's when she had entered his shop. "Pardon, but that's she," he followed the direction of the woman's nod, finding the hooded figure near the back. Noticeably abandoned by one familiar to the maiden, he would faintly roll his eyes as he made his way towards the dame she had asked him to inspect and aid if possible. Claiming that she was afraid for her health and well being as a whole though she divulged no other details.

The first announcement of his presence was undoubtedly his footsteps, halting at her side and punctuated by the droplets of water dripping from the hem of his cloak, his own hood remaining pulled up and over his head as well. "Miss Primrose?" He addressed her. "Was told you may need some help."

He supposed if he was thankful for anything, it was the lack of music that could often be found plaguing this tavern. As a smaller inn, most of the acts were less than favorable and more times than not sent the hounds howling to their faithful masters. A bucket perforated with holes, if you will. Another blessing was that most of those trapped under the roof were simply waiting out the storm on tired heels rather than trying to drown out the maladies that plagued them within their cups.

As he addressed her, she would indeed turn up towards him with flustered cheeks. However, it didn't appear to be the work of strict embarrassment, but rather the ruddy coloring stirred by the oars of illness. A large clap of thunder was enough to momentarily distract him, eyes lingering upon the rattled windows. He only hoped that the lightening was still outside of the city gates, the last thing he wanted to deal with at present was the madness of the homes catching blaze. Most of the homes were constructed of wood, a material that was common here among the richer bloods being carved of precious stones. Though even they would be hard pressed in the current economy should the lower class suddenly be starving as well as homeless. “No, I – ..” she began, and he would draw his attention back to her.

Her fingers would reach up, drawing down the hood to reveal the full pallid canvas of her features. Now without the hindrance of shadow, it was even more apparent that she was fever touched. He couldn't help the slight surge of irritancy that slipped through him. Though he knew himself to be a stranger to her, one that was supposedly close to the maiden had sought him out of concern for her, no small feat given the woman's age. The trek through the horrid weather couldn't have been easy for her or bode well for her own health. “My apologies sir,” she was hasty to make herself more presentable. Her posture straightened, and he would cross his arms as he merely watched her. Judging by the maid's - and the fact she had a lady in waiting to begin with - speech about her , he assumed her to be some high born lass, though he had next to nothing to do with any familiarity concerning their faces, names or anything. He also couldn't help but notice the way her eyes wandered, a heavy twitch of his ear given under the weight of her curious stare.

“I fear your excursions are fruitless and I will ensure to compensate your lost time.” At her dismissal, he would fix her with a droll stare. A heavy breath left him as he instead pulled one of the nearby chairs over, its back facing her as he settled his weight onto it, elbows resting atop the supports as his cheek rested idly in his palm. “Rest assured I am fine, good stranger.” His eye brows raise slightly, shoulders rising and falling in easy dismissal. "Suit yourself." He would grunt along with the shrug. "As for my compensation: buy me a drink." One he full well intended to drink right where he was. He'd be damned before he made another mad dash through the madness of this summer storm.

He didn't miss the way her eyes widened when he accepted her dismissal. As with most of those with money, status or any semblance of power, she appeared to be coddled. A young lady accustomed to getting her way or being pressed in the name of concern. Such was his impression of her thus far, a type that was commonly found buying the fruit juice concoctions. “Oh, yes, of course.” She relented quickly to his jabbing words.

He wasn't oblivious, of course to the older woman who remained behind to hover over her mistress's care. He heard her shuffling, he swore, before the elder even moved. Ears would careen towards her, followed by the entirety of his attention lent to her as he reclined, settling his hands behind his head. Though it held the pinch of pity, his gaze was level, even as she began to speak. An earnest effort to change his mind, “Sir, we have been running for four nights and she has not once touched a meal or beverage since—” He waited for her to continue, but she would not, her tongue halting steadfastly before she would shake her head faintly. At that, a slight frown curdled the tension of the placid water's surface. His brow furrowed. Were they involved in some manner of trouble? He would appraise the woman once again, wondering if he had perhaps brashly judged them. A fault his father had often chastised. He would always argue, however, that these were not books; they were people. And people and their motives were often easier to read than written word.

Alas, he would afford the trail a blithe shrug, unbothered regardless of their crimes or lack there of so long as he didn't get mixed up in the schemes. He would readily admit that if nothing else, the young woman was indeed sick. “I will pay you double if I need for her care, she will not bite lest the stone falls from her neck again.” Again? The stone? He supposed that would mark her with the lycan's curse if there was truth to the elder's teasing. "I'm not overly concerned with coin." He would tell her, peripherals catching her as the main of his focus would linger back to the intended patient. There was a shake to her hand as she settled his tankard upon the table top. “The bartender suggested whisky.” Already, he could smell the raw content of it, and a low sigh would leave his lungs as he tilted his head back slightly to catch the mischief eager in the man's face as he offered a faux salute.

He had to suppress his groan as he shifted forward, fingers wrapping tightly upon the handle of the heavy mug. He mulled the interior of his cheek faintly as his dark gaze stared at the near lacquered black of the contents. "Of course he did," he muttered under his breath before he took a rather large drink, eyes closing at the burn as it seared all the way down his throat. Ears pinned back as his mouth parted from the rim. If nothing else, he already felt quite the bit warmer. His free hand reached upward, removing the clutching pendant that kept his cloak in place, placing the fabric into the booth seat opposite of the corner she had once again hid herself within. "Rude to ignore your guest," he prodded. "If what you say is true and you're not ill, you should at least have a drink with me. Conversation, something." Despite the flat of his tone, the spark of amusement was brilliant in his attentive gaze. "So, Miss Primrose, tell me about yourself."

Whatever it was that plagued the women, it was none of his business. If the happening was pertinent to the young lady's condition, he was all but certain that her maid would have informed him, but as it were, it seemed more a personal matter to the duo. He could only guess itt was some new, fresh tragedy that had plagued them. This land was rife with them, a danger that lurrked everywhere one looked.

He was one such source at one point in time.

He couldn't help but notice that they seemed to be traveling alone for the most part. No other tried to approach them, and while some in town knew of his less savory contacts, all they did was spare them a glace from time to time. Eyes varied from concern to suspicion, ones easily pressed aside, especially with the seear of his whiskey burning down his throat as another strong swill lpassed beyond his lips. His ears remained pinned this time as he did his best to ignore the downcast and soured expression of the aid. The barkeep was well enough familiar with him to know that while he occassionally enjoyed his cups on a particularly rough day or to take the edge off himself after Huian found it necessaary to involve him in 'group' affairs again, he was - in fact - a pitiful lightweight.

The last drink was as hard to swallow as the first, and while relief found him at the bottom of the tall flagon, an uncomfortable heat had settled upon the weight of his cheekbones as well, bidding him to shake his head. She also wasn't making his job very easy either, offering him no proof that she was as hale and whole as she wished to claim. An elongated pause yawned between the trio as he lazily ran a finger along the lip of the container that previously housed his drink. She merely shrunk in on herself, pulling her cloak closer around her to ward off the chill of her fever no doubt.

He merely pursed his lips at her eventual dimissal before he heaved a sigh. 'With all due respect, ma'am, your hired hand expressed great concern over your well being and I agreed to help her. I've seen enough to see that you're very ill and in need of treatment." He would shift in his seat, pushing the mug awway from himself. "I've had enough to drink that you have.... two options." Hee would hold up his index, followed by his middle finger as he listed them. "You behave, I give you a medicine to treat your specific ailments and we all go along our merry little way. Oooor two, I begrudgingly hold you down and force you to drink a very unpleasant tasting vile liquid that will also do the trick." As the last words left him, he would settle the disgusting looking canister on the flat surface between them, its mere appearance an unappetizing shade of seasick green with an equally unappealing smog that whirled ominously above the liquid.

His cheek once again settled into his palm as he eyed her flatly, his mouth affixed in a loose pout. "So, what'll it be?"