0001-03-03 - Dunno what the key is for.

It takes all kinds, around here, but somehow this particular establishment has managed to find itself in reasonably stable company; a potter to one side, a perfumer on the other, and between them a little building with big front windows filled with... stuff. It's early evening, and reasonably nice out; the front entrance and a door in the back are both propped open to keep a breeze running through the main room, which otherwise can get a bit musty. Cad is sitting back in a chair, feet on the enormous desk that also tends to serve as the front counter, turning a small box over in his hands and apparently not paying much attention to whoever might be browsing. So long as nobody's trying to make off with anything, at least.

A cloud of delicate blossoms wafts on the breeze, drifts lazily through the open door, banishes the lingering traces of mustiness with a flip of feminine fragrance, entangles itself in the air above the head of the proprietor, increasing in potency a moment later when the evening light gets blotted out by V'tary's big dumb shoulders. He is deep in the occupation of smelling his wrist right now, stopping on the doorstep to breathe in from the very bottom of his lungs and hold that scent inside, released as a lovelorn-sounding sigh. Then, suddenly breaking, he crosses to the desk in a few quick, clipped strides, punching one fist into the opposite palm - except, "So what's in the box."

He's game.

That was almost, almost enough to get Cad to actually get his very well-polished shoes off the desk like some kind of normal human engaged in normal professional behavior. If only he hadn't caught who it was. "You smell absolutely enchanting," probably not a real compliment, but then who can really tell. The box isn't any bigger than an orange; he tosses it up a few feet, catches it again. There's a bit of a rattle. Something, it appears, is in the box! Good first guess. He finally stops furrowing brows at the box to shoot an inquiring look at V'tary. "What does it sound like?"

"Oh, I know," V'tary appreciates having the hook taken, he went to all the trouble, and plucks the front of his shirt a second to be sure to share an extra waft of his gorgeous aroma Cad's way. It's really a lot, like a childish volume of perfume has to have gone into the making of this bouquet. He takes in a proud breath, smooths his hand down the front of that shirt, and keeps it poised against his gut to lean forward into attention at the box. He tracks it up, back down into the catch, and guesses profoundly, "Fingernail clippers. Wait!" His hand comes off his stomach, palm extended, slowly curled to precisely his index finger which dabs the air importantly. "Toenail clippers."

A light cough into his elbow is the only sign, really the only sign, that Cad is not genuinely enchanted. "You really didn't have to go to those sorts of lengths on my account. I can't go around playing favorites and giving discounts to everybody who wanders in all jasmine and roses." Some people, some apparently not V'tary people, but definitely not all people, so it's not completely false, see? Cad gives the box another experimental shake, and another frown, finally shifting his feet back to the tile floor. "Why would anyone keep their toenail clippers in a box? Maybe a nice little case with some other tools, a file, a little pair of scissors..." What was he doing again? Ah, the box. He reaches across to set it on the desk where the other man might have a look at it. "Woodcrafter left a bunch of them to his kids, but they could never get this one open." No obvious lock; it's apparently a puzzle.

Waving the backs of his fingers - batting them, really - V'tary assures, "This is self-care, sometimes I just need to feel pampered." Before returning his attention to the box fully, he lingers a look on Cad, brows lifted questioningly, a mute what you don't wear perfume sometimes?! before he clears his throat.

Right, they're talking about what's in the box. "Wait, so you have no idea what's in there?" He turns at the waist, looking around the immediate vicinity for anything remotely like a, "Hammer?" And pantomimes the action of bang-bang-banging on stuff.

"What I am hearing here, then, is that you didn't get anywhere with her." What Cad might or might not wear is besides the point; he is not a man to bathe in his cologne, thank you very much. That little jab gotten in, he makes a rueful face, though not before snapping the box back up. Just in case. "The box is probably worth more than what's in it. Unless what's in it is worth more..." Speaking of lovelorn sighs! But Cad reserves them for inanimate objects, apparently. "Don't be such a brute. Many problems in life respond better to a bit of finesse, you know." The box, of course, does not respond at all to his tracing its seams again. "And," he concedes, "a certain amount of pertinacity."

V'tary just shrugs a big, hapless roll of those big, hapless shoulders and pulls down his sleeve to cover his perfumey wrists. Just before his hand closes around something that looks promising, some heavy-handled doodad whose functional end contains itself tidily in his fist and whose vaguely decorative handle is about to get mashed - or would be about to get mashed if he had caught the box before Cad did. He looks hard at the spot where the box was a second ago, then into Cad's face while the other man speaks. "Go see a Healer for that," pertinacity, "they have a tea that'll clear it right up." Beat. "Hey, that could be what's in the box." He cocks the thingie he's prepared to use as a smasher, just say the word.

"Persistence? Grit. Put that down, please, unless you're buying it." Cad tucks the box away now into one of the desk drawers for its own safety, and possibly that of his fingers if V'tary were to get a little too enthusiastic, but then smiles at the bronzerider as though he has once again attained status as Favorite Customer. "Did you actually stop by because you want something, or was this purely a social call? I do have some belt knives that hold an edge extremely well, if you're really desperate to trim your nails."

Persistence? Grit. "What did you just call me?" V'tary's brows slump in furrows of deep, deep thought while he makes sure to heft the box-smasher. Only to wind up very daintily setting it down on the edge of the desk a moment later, withdrawing his beefy mitt with extra caution. Look how good he follows direction, putting things down, please.

"Hey! You brought it full-circle with the fingernail clippers. Good job." He drops his now empty hands to the edge of the desk, leaning his weight forward onto his arms and toes, tipped forward in an attitude of eagerness toward the seat of commerce in front of him. "I was just in the market for a mystery box and figured - " He answers the favorite-customer smile with a show of his teeth. "How much do I have to pay you to let me smash it?" Ahem. "Open it. How much do I have to pay you to let me open it."

"I didn't call you anything, I'm just lamenting how my quality education is wasted on my current occupation. It's fine." It must be fine; Cad is still being customer service cheerful. "I don't know that I could part with it for any price, at this point. I've hardly had the chance to try it. It's still ripe with possibilities. If I let you open it, then I'll never know if I could have. Come back in a seven. Maybe two. If I haven't managed it by then, maybe I'll let you." His fingertips drum on the desktop. "Maybe."

V'tary telegraphs bad. He looks at Cad. He looks at the desk drawer with the box in it. He looks at Cad again. He takes a breath as if to say something - and then he just lunges for the drawer, making sort of dumb, useless noises that probably contain the word "gimme" a bunch. It's childish, but c'mon. IT'S A MYSTERY BOX.

Cad plainly is not expecting this, or at least not expecting real follow-through. He gets his hand on the drawer, only to have it yanked open anyway. Then he makes a grab for the bronzerider's wrist, but lets go before this can turn into the sort of incident that's going to cause any more destruction in here than strictly necessary. "V'tary, you giant imbecile." This is undercut slightly by his softening almost immediately. "There's a hammer in the back, somewhere. Here, if you'll do it properly, I'll let you, and you can pay me back sometime." Probably not, then, in marks, though how useful is a bull going to be when you run a china shop? He can figure that out later. "Just don't break anything else, please."

V'tary is absolutely ready to slap his way to victory, Cad, don't test him! He has his drawer-free hand poised to swat - and instead breaks into a broad beam at the insult. "Thank you, I've worked hard to become one." He plucks the box from the drawer with undiluted delight, practically prances to wherever constitutes 'the back' - "Whoops," and puts that back the way he found it on that shelf, nothing else is broken, shhh. He could settle down with the hammer and pry at the box and figure out how to open it properly - hinges or whatever. But instead, he gives it a hard WHACK with the hammer and splinters the wood to reveal a small brass key.

"Well. My work here is done." He drops the hammer like it's a mic.

Cad follows, if only to make sure that the trail of destruction in V'tary's wake is limited. The back is an actual back room, mostly storage and small tools and various parts from things that couldn't be salvaged now waiting to repair other things that can. One open back door, one very closed and very locked door that must lead to something in the way of living quarters. Not much, to judge from the exterior dimensions of the place. It's all very modest. Probably because Cad can be talked into letting someone do something like this. He fishes the key from the remains of the box, turning it over in his hand. "Wonder what this could go to," but he's now murmuring mostly to himself. To V'tary: "If that girl ever gives you the time of day, I hope she figures out you need a short leash. Now, get, I'm closing up."

With an abused sniff, V'tary in-your-faces, "You're not throwing me out, 'cause I was already leaving."

"Oh, wait. Tea tree oil. I need some. I don't want to ask the Healers for it, so help a guy out? Seeing as I did you a favor with the box and all?" That's legitimately how he's going to tell this story later, so just sell him the oil so he can saunter out the back door without breaking anything else? Pleasure doing business!

Yes, "things one does not want to request of the Healers" is apparently also under Cad's remit, though the bottle he finds for the big man is one of a number in a crate in the back room, not out front. All very reasonable. Though Cad's making a face. "I don't want to nag you about clean socks and underwear, but if you get yourself killed and I have to go to my grave wondering if you got distracted by jock itch, V'tary... try to take care of yourself."

"It's for aromatherapy!" But no, it's not.