Galen looks over the shelves in the shop momentarily, with his hands clasped behind his back. He's been in here before, time and again, buying herbs and medicinal items from the shop's owner. However, as is consistent with the rest of his lifestyle, his associations with the Lapine were never more than purely professional.

Normally, the Mephitian would look over the pastries so kindly set up on the table (though he's never actually tried one in all the times he's been in the shop). However, today he ignores them entirely. His eyes are scanning the shelves quickly, furtively, as his head darts left and right. He is looking for something.

With a yawn, the Lapi proprietor appears from the back of the shop bearing a large mug of tea. "Oh, good morning Healer Galen!" Aaron says, waking up a bit more. "What can I do for you on this fine … well, slightly damp really … morning?"

While the front door slowly closes, the sounds of outside morning activity can still be heard – not all that much, given the mediocre weather and the early hour. A Dromodon-led cart rolls by, bottles of Rughrat milk rattling in holders. A trilling flute can be intermittently heard coming from somewhere, perhaps one of the restaurants. The rustling sound of some rolling shutters being hauled up on a curio storefront manages to slip in right before the door closes entirely.

The healer turns his head over in the direction of the Lapine. He looks him over, blinks twice, and smiles politely. "Oh, good morning, Mr. Lightfoot," he says. He notes the tired expression on the Lapine's eyes. "I hope I wasn't the one who woke you."

And instant later, Galen mentally chides himself. You fool. What kind of opening conversation is that?? And as if it was okay for him to keep sleeping. You need those components right away. It's good that he's up.

Setting his mug down on the countertop, Aaron removes the slightly stained work apron he was wearing, with its "Kiss the Chemist" banner, and brushes his black ear back out of his face. "Oh no, I was just dehydrating some things in the back."

There's the faint sound of glass clinking against cobbles, somewhere toward the back of the store – likely at the back door. The Kavi milkman seems to be making his rounds late today.

Galen notices the banner on the apron as the Lapine takes it off. Strange … but cute, in a way. he thinks. He starts to wonder for a second what it would be like if he had some banner of his own on his hat right now, or on his robe – then quickly pushes it aside. He focuses back to the Lapine. "Well then … I was wondering … " He clears his throat. "I was wondering, if you had in any worzelberry, or roc's claw leaves today. I already saw on the shelf you have lots of yellowbark."

"If you need it dry, I should have some in stock," Aaron says after a moment of recollection. "Nothing fresh though. How much do you need?"

The healer thinks. Let's see … a four-month-old infant, no previous illnesses or allergies … one poultice or tincture should suffice. "About a cluster of ten or twelve of the berries, and four or five leaves of roc's claw. Neither needs to be fresh, but the berries shouldn't be more than ten days old, I think." He pauses. "And I'll also need some desert lily honey, ten grams' worth – and that has to be fresh. Do you have any of that?"

A soft swish-swish-swishing noise can be heard, of a broom sweeping the floor in the back area of the store. A glimpse can be seen of the golden-furred and spotted aproned Savanite clerk going about simple chores while business is still light.

Galen's ears flick, and he turns around halfway. He sees the Savanite, smiles, and gives a small nod. "Good morning," he says.

"Desert Lily, Desert Lily," the shopkeeper mumbles as he takes notes. "I don't have any that fresh, but I know where I can probably get some on short notice. What I have on hand is wax-sealed, maybe a week old." The Lapi pulls out the delivery manifest from a shelf beneath the counter and double-checks.

Galen looks the clerk over, with soft eyes. He's never known how exactly to speak to them … especially as they had no way of speaking to him back. The fact of this particular disability of theirs always made him feel somewhat awkward and uncomfortable around them … But at least they're no longer slaves, thank the Star, he concludes. They should be having a much better time now than before.

The cheetah only responds with typically quiet Savanite nod and a hand to his cap, sweeps up some dust into a dust-pan, and empties it into a waste bin.

The Mephitian turns back around to the counter. "I'm sorry," he says apologetically. "My attention span's been getting very strange as of late." He is about to mention the reason for it being the two newest residents in his clinic since yesterday, then holds back. He peers at the jar. "A week old, you say?" His smile lessens a little. "Are you sure you don't have any honey that's fresh?"

"It usually comes from Abu Dhabi, so is difficult to get truly fresh," the Lapi says, noting the healer's concern. "But there's a noblewoman who grows the lilies here on Rephidim and produces a small amount of honey for her personal use. The other items I have in stock, though. The berries I got in fresh a few days ago."

"Ah, good, good," says Galen, smiling with relief. For a moment there, I thought all was lost. All the necessary components are here. My day may end happily yet. "The noblewoman … would it be hard to contact her?"

The bells on the front door jangle as it opens to admit another customer: a black-clad Eeee in black blousy top, embroidered vest, billowy trousers and laced boots, her attire in an outlandish cut befitting a traveling performer, and topped off with a wide-brimmed hat with a cobalt blue ribbon band. She pauses at the door, halting the progress of a brown-shelled Vykarin that seems intent upon following her into the store, but she quietly chides him, "Remain outside, Rawrii. Master Lightfoot doesn't want you trying to sample the wares." A penitent whine is heard outside, and with a sigh, the bard finally strides into the store.

Galen's eyes widen. I know that voice … and that name …

He turns around …

"I wouldn't think so," Aaron says as he pulls out a small book of addresses. "Do you know Lady von Sedgewick?" he asks the skunk, then turns a smile towards the Eeee bard. "Good morning!"

Vielanika smiles and waves a gloved hand back to the Lapi proprietor. "Good morning, Master Lightfoot!" She notices the Mephitian customer. "I'm just here again for some more herbs for Rawrii. He's been eating bad vermites again." She heads over to one of the shelves with a look of having been through this routine before.

The Mephitian customer eyes her, looking her over. Wonder of wonders, I can't believe it. It is her! And after all these years … He blinks. Oh, come now, Galen, this is no time to be gaping at other people; you have work to do. Besides, you would only make her uncomfortable by staring at her. He looks back to Aaron. "I'm sorry – you say Lady von Sedgewick? I afraid I don't know her."

"It's frightening to think of what it takes to upset a Vykarin's digestion," the Lapi comments, and finishes copying the address for Sedgewick Manor onto a slip of paper, which he slides across to the healer. "I can fill the rest of the order now, or else have it ready for you once you've gotten the honey, Healer Galen," he says to the Mephitian. "Funny, though – it's usually Mind or Dream Mages that get both worzleberries and roc leaves together."

Galen picks up the piece of paper, and looks it over. "Hmm … not too far away from here, if my memory serves me right." He looks back to Aaron. "Thank you, Mr. Lightfoot. And, yes, fill in the rest order now. I'll pay here." He pauses a moment. "Em … you say Mind and Dream Mages, now?" He blinks. "I didn't know you had them as customers here."

Vielanika hums to herself, briefly distracted by some fancifully decorated talisman pouches. However, just outside, a big wet Vykarin nose is leaving smear-marks on the glass, as the brown-shelled drummer tracks Vielanika's movements. The bat gives another resigned sigh, and returns to the task of finding the herbs.

"Oh yes," Aaron says as he heads back among the shelves. "I supply components for most of the mages still in Rephidim, and a lot of them abroad as well for the hard to find stuff." He flashes a few hand signs to the Savanite, who sets aside his broom and begins cutting some of the long grasses that grow in planters near the back window. The rabbit selects two glass jars from the shelves, and brings them back to the counter. "It was five leaves, right?"

"Yes, five," replies the healer. How about that … he knows Savan sign, he thinks … then chides himself, yet again. Of course he does, you fool! He has a Savanite clerk. What's wrong with your mind this morning? He sighs and shakes his head, also mentally. You need to drink more mateh in the morning, Galen.

"The herbs'll be ready in a moment, Vielanika," Aaron tells the bat as he removes five fragile-looking black leaves from one jar using a long pair of chitin tweezers, and places them into a sterile envelope.

Vielanika makes her way around to the back, observing the Savanite's work. She puts her glove to her mouth in a muffled giggle. "So I see. I suppose this is becoming terribly routine now. I do hope he learns his lesson this time."

"He probably just needs to stick to hunting them in the Bazaar," the Lapi says, and fills a small clay jar with a dozen purple berries. "They usually eat better garbage than the dock vermites." After sealing the jar, Aaron writes out a receipt. "Let's see … five at fifteen, a dozen at two… That'll be ninety-nine shekels, sir."

Ninety-nine shekels?!? Galen blinks … but just once. And his face remains controlled. "Okay, then … ninety-nine shekels." He takes out his purse, and proceeds to count them out.