❝ It’s for a bloke… yeah. ❞
Shiloh was not terribly sure how to respond to that, or how to take that information and apply it to the subject at hand–scents were not his specialty, after all. Let alone what insight someone’s scent could offer about their personality or how they maneuvered in this twisting road of life. When it got to the listing of ingredients, Shiloh finally admitted that he had no idea what he was looking for, and turned to the shopkeeper in resignation.
The young man approached the counter to speak to the other properly, but his gaze shifted downwards at the question. Now how did he answer that? He had no real way of knowing, aside from text conversations, and text was a poor judge of character. No tone, no inflection, no way of reading someone. Yet… so many ways, but not in the way to answer the question as to Crane’s temperament.
❝ I just don’t… I don’t know…
I’ve never met him in person,
well, I mean… in passing, I saw
the back of him, but we’ve never
talked face-to-face. He usually
just texts me–he doesn’t leave
his office much.
❝ I don’t really know what
sort of temperament he’s got, I
know he wears this big black,
sort of heavy overcoat. I know
he wears tweed–or at least he
wore tweed pants. I’m taking it
as a tweed suit or something.
You look really eccentric
wearing tweed trousers with
other outfits… ❞
Shiloh cleared his throat–r a m b l i n g, he was rambling again. What all did he know that was relevant?
❝ He must spend a good
amount of time around horses, he
moves kind of like a deer, and I
think. Hm. He seems s a d. That’s
all I’ve got. ❞
It didn’t take a detective to gradually piece together who the boy was talking about, and as realization dawned upon Sylvester, his expression shifted from that of polite-storekeeper to mildly-perturbed. Ah, shit, this was probably the one Crane had sent around to keep an eye on things. On that note, he removed himself from his forward position to a more leaned back posed, crossing his arms tight over his chest.
❝ Well, it’s rather odd to be buying un Homme un Parfum if you hardly know him, no? Then again I have couples who haven’t spoken a word to one another in years buying stuff, so who am I to say? ❞
He looked closely at the boy now. It didn’t seem he’d be very good at taking on some of the individuals who had entered Sylvester’s shop before; in fact, it seemed like he’d be snapped in half by them before he had time to react. Unless he was good with a gun, but even then he seemed way too… nice for that. Sylvester felt a bit of resentment set in - Crane seemed to have ripped him off in his own special way.
❝ I have a fragrance called L'inconnu du Lac. It’s comprised of lemon and verbena, with iris and juniper as the heart notes, and Mysore sandalwood as well as ambergris as the base. It’s a very ‘somber’ scent; rather reminds you of a misted lake, which is why the title is what it is. Do you wager he’d enjoy something like that? Because if not, I have various others to select from. ❞
They could spend all night settling on a cologne for Crane. Sylvester was just amused by the fact that Crane would be getting one of his works. Perhaps he should grab something from the backroom after all; payback for sending this poor kid as his guard.
❝ Uh... ❞
Shiloh was a little taken aback by the assumption, true, it was an odd thing to be buying a man he hardly knew. He could have gone with say, a gift card to Starbucks, or a mug to get into the man’s good graces, but Shiloh came armed with what little knowledge that he did have.
❝ We’re not a couple. I don’t
really know him all that well, but
I’m just a runner. I deliver stuff,
not terribly important for him to
get to know me, I guess. ❞
Shiloh looked away, not exactly proud of the fact that he was willing to jump through all of these hoops just to ask Crane some questions. That he was willing to make an excuse so that Crane would have no choice but to meet him face-to-face, effectively bribing the businessman just so he’d step out from behind his phone? It felt cunning, self-serving... and thereby shameful to the young man.
So much so that the fact that, if Shiloh had been privy to Sylvester’s assumption that Shiloh was part of the armed guard, it would have been laughable. Pan had made the boy a runner due to his own assumption that Shiloh would not survive the rough and tumble environment of Gotham City. A runner was the safest position in the field, distant and relatively clean, at least to the perception of those doing the drops.
❝ But I need a meeting with
him, and I’m not one of those
important people that’ll get his
attention. If being his delivery
boy won’t get me into his office,
I’ll use what else I’ve got, and
what I’ve got is... ❞
A nervous hand was run through his hair, and Shiloh ruffled it slightly, as it trying to stimulate his own neurons into giving him something grander than what he currently had to work with. Some overlooked detail, some fact that could tie the two leads he had together. Alas, a moment at someone’s back left him with very little to work off of. Shiloh gave an awkward scoff.
❝ That he’s sad... and he
smells like a horse... ❞
His rambling finally finished, he let out a heavy sigh, like a rush of air being let out of a balloon. He felt better for it, more sure of himself, and found himself able to relax again. He rationalized that, had Crane given him any other option, any other opportunity, he would not have to fall back onto such a unconventional measure.
❝ That one sounds like it might
be interesting, do you have a
sample I could smell to be sure? ❞
