IN WHICH FENN BUGS a POTION MAKER

[FennWenn]

Sometimes, Fenn forgot that direwolves were typically regarded as terrifying predators rather than fluffy pets. When giving him the instructions to using the medicine-stuff, the poor potion man had a slack expression on his face that struck the small fae as distinctly dumbfounded. As the treatment was explained to him, Fenn took mental notes. That bite-paste was definitely going to freeze to his skin when he applied it to himself. Crossing his fingers, the boy hoped it’d still work that way. Bathing Daugi was going to be a pain too, but if it got rid of the bugs, he could stand to deal with it.

UH THINGS FREEZE WHEN TOUCH THEM. WILL TRY YOUR PASTE-AND-BATH MEDICINE THOUGH.

The only other problem he had was when he was asked whether or not his parents were paying for the treatment. His face screwed up in flickering annoyance. Fenn was an independent fae; he didn’t need any “parental guidance”! Not since he was twenty. And his psuedodad died.

Nonchalantly, Fenn grabbed a fistful of candies for himself — only honey ones. No-one could ever convince him that anything tasted better than honey. One was popped into his mouth. Mmm, sticky-sweet deliciousness. The rest were shoved into his special sifan satchel for later.

Trying as hard as he could to seem self-assured, he shook his head at the potion man, flicking his wispy blonde fluff back into place when it dropped in front of his eyes.

NO PARENTS. AM THIRTY-FIVE, VERY ADULT, TAKE CARE OF SELF AND MUTT FRIEND, he wrote, chest puffed out with pride. HAVE OWN MONEY. Though, the word “expensive” worried him. This flea problem had prevented him from picking pockets for days. Fenn glanced at the price and- oh dear. He paled, a sheepish half-grin springing to his face as he did the mental math. His wallet was just twenty coins shy of the full price. And that wasn’t even counting the candy he just took! UH MOSTLY HAVE OWN MONEY. NOT HAVE ALL NEEDED AT MOMENT. PAY WITH WHAT HAVE? NAME FENN, FENNIK GLENWEY. YOU NAME, SIR POTION MAN?

The bites on his cheek itched. He knew it was probably not good, but… oop. Already scratched. A bead of black blood welled from one bite, and smeared on his fingertip. Ick, blood. Fenn made a face at it. This medicine stuff better really work.