A soft jingle could be heard from the door as his coarse fingers presses against the glass door, brown hues scrutinizing the perimeter of the shop. It was small, just the way he liked it. The owner was an... Acquaintance (If you could even call her that). The story which were stored in the objects that housed the shelves always caught his interest, especially if they held stories of past societies. It could hold the key to a lost civilization... Or it could be a a lamp owned by a 92 year old woman.
Either way, his fingers perused their way to his pockets as his loafers squeaked against the wooden floors. Optics landed on the woman who maned the register, a soft smile as he stroked his recently shaved chin.
“Hey there. Any new merchandise, or is it the same as always? I feel like I’ve entered this shop so many times I know the stock like the back of my hand... Must be worst for an actual employee.”
There’s a light chuckle as he attempts to make conversation; smiling hiding whatever true intentions he had.
@dcadtalk ❣