There’s a soft chime as the door hits the bells hanging above it. Atlas almost flinches at the noise that would have once caused him great excitement. To him, it was just yesterday that angry wielders were rushing in here to have their blades fixed for the war -- but somehow it was much longer than that. Somehow it had been thousands of years. He still wasn’t sure how to process that information - but that didn’t matter. He pushed all of that to the side and approached the front of the store.
“Can I help you?” He asked, pulling his glasses down from his face and letting them hang around his neck. He couldn’t exactly say they weren’t open yet - he hadn’t even set the hours. Could he even do that, if the world outside was stuck in an endless night?
“You’ll have to excuse the mess.” He said, pushing a box aside on the long counter top. “I’m still setting up.”