↪ @classical-crowbar // continued from here;;
❝ IS IT? ❞ LUDWIG GLANCES UP A CLOCK HUNG on the wall across from his desk, lifting a hand to shove his glasses up the bridge of his nose. A hum acknowledges their predicament as he confirms the Scout’s more immediate concern.
A brow hikes its way up in an expression of apparent amusement. Already Ludwig is shoving his papers into a plain manila folder, which he tucks carefully away into a drawer to be locked away securely. From the same drawer he plucks a small bottle of pills, turning it over in his hands to glance at the label. In the sharp loops and swirls of his handwriting is Herr Cassidy’s prescription – perfectionist as he always is, Ludwig had taken the trouble to cook up the medicine himself. His first trial, some weeks ago, had killed a large animal, and the second put another into comatose. But since then, Ludwig has put effort into crafting the perfect formula. This one should be no trouble at all.
He tosses the bottle in Herr Scout’s direction. ❝ This one is much more effective than any prescription you’ll find in a typical pharmacy. Take one a day, with caution – and only one. The smaller pill size is not a mistake. ❞
And there, that’s their business done and finished. Another look tossed towards the clock, and then back to his new colleague. ❝ Hmm... I don’t remember saying that we have to obtain the cake legally. ❞ He reaches for his coat, dragging it up over a shoulder and sparing Herr Scout a wide grin that promises mischief.
❝ That being said – are you going to be breaking into a bakery in your pyjamas, Herr Cassidy, or do you prefer to go and get changed? We would not want those nice slippers of yours to be ruined. I would at least change those out for good running shoes. ❞
Cake is cake, and being closed won’t help any bakery against Ludwig E. Humboldt.
