Bordering On Brokering

[FennWenn]

If Fenn had been a cat, his fur would’ve stood on end.

Standing behind him in the flesh was the red-headed alchemist himself -- with significantly less hair than usual. Yet, nonetheless, it was him. What by Banrion’s damn divinity was Nevin doing in Radasanth? No! He lived in Stonevale. Fenn lived everywhere. He felt moderately offended that the alchemist had barged out of Stonevale to invade the everywhere where Fenn was — and for no other reason to call the boy’s bluff. Yikes. An grey flush tinged his skin, and he puffed out his cheeks in pure irritation.

NO, NO NO, Fenn wrote stubbornly as his stomach did flip-flops pure panic. He could practically feel the potential money draining out of his hands. UNICORN BLOOD, VERY REAL DEAL. GOOD FOR BITALITY.

“Sir, this child is lying. This is a simple digestive aid. It isn’t ‘unicorn blood’, and it doesn’t restore ‘bitality’ — whatever that is.”

MISPELL. VITALITY. He was too taken aback to keep his letters straight.

Nevin sighed, looking faintly as if he had a headache coming on. “That doesn’t negate the fact that you are lying. I would know, I made that potion.”

As the scruffy trader glanced confusedly between both arguers, he scratched his beard and shook his head. “Aye, sorry kid, but if ‘taint th’ real thing you claim, I don’t think I’ll buy,” Scourge said warily, setting the potion down. “Don’t like it when these sorta disputes come up. Can’t do.”

Fenn’s jaw dropped in disbelief. But- how- what? His most intimidating glare was shot Nevin’s way. The alchemist didn’t seem all that frightened. Worse, before he could find some better way to make his wrath known, the situation became slightly more bizarre.

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin as someone new pushed the door open and stepped up next to Nevin as if they were old chums — probably, they were. Tall and lean, darkly green-eyed, but not mean. Normally, Fenn might have taken a liking to someone with such geniality. It matched his usual state of enthusiasm, certainly. What came out of beanpole’s mouth rather ruined that though. A lecture on stealing? The boy listened with a distinctly blank look on his face, all interest wiped off clean. Ho-hum. As if Fenn hadn’t heard all the different iterations of “thieving bad, don’t do”. Yes he did have to steal to survive… but he also kind of stole a lot more than he strictly needed to get by. There was a rush to it. Who could blame him? Shiny objects were mesmerizing, and anyone who let their guard down around goodies was begging to have their loot liberated. No other trade was half as exciting. Well, but for treasure hunting. And that was basically stealing from dead folk, wasn’t it?

The real question was, should he stick around for the promise of a free meal?

Fenn picked up the potion through the folds of his cloak and sighed. It wasn’t as if he were going get this sold now anyway. With the sweetest, eyelash-batting smile he had, he offered up the sloshy bottle of liquid up for Nevin to take. With his other frosty hand, he scribbled on the counter. SORRY. BAD FENN. SUCH REGRET. DINNER NICE; YAY NO NEED TO THIEF. ALL SOLVED! If his kiddy cherub face could get him out of trouble, then Fenn supposed it wouldn’t hurt to turn up the charm a bit. If not for Nevin’s sake — he already knew the truth — then to quiet beanpole’s dramatic lecturing.