⏰POTIONOMICS VALENTINE'S COUNTDOWN IS OVER!⏰
This is the end of the ficlet series "A Lovely Day in Rafta" counting down to the Potionomics Valentine's prompt event starting tomorrow, February 13th-15th!
Original event post here: [LINK]
Posting guidelines here: [LINK]
💜❤️💙 A LOVELY DAY IN RAFTA
Part 13 of 13
(link to Part 1)
(link to full series on AO3)
Sylvia stirred the cauldron slowly, counterclockwise, letting the wraith orchids unfurl in the heat—and stifled a yawn. The front shutters had been drawn for an hour, the only light coming from the cauldron's flame and the lanterns over her workbench. Once this batch was stable she could curl up and pass out.
The bell above the door chimed.
Her hand jerked on the stirring rod, a flinch that sent a ripple through the cauldron. She turned, running through the short list of people who'd come knocking at this hour, what they might need—
Finn ducked through the doorframe, one shoulder angled to clear the lintel.
The tension bled out of her before she could think to hold it, and she didn't bother hiding the smile that took its place.
"Burnin' the midnight oil, Teach?"
"I know, I know." She half-turned from the cauldron without breaking the rotation, chin tipped up. "But Robin's stiff competition. It's worth a late night to get this seeking enhancer going before bed."
"Uh-huh." He took a few steps in, hands in his pockets, and looked around the shop with exaggerated evaluation. As if he hadn't been here a hundred times before. "You say that, but all I see is this crime against sleep," he said, jerking a thumb at the armchair that bore an indent that was, admittedly, shaped like Sylvia.
"Bedtime, then," she amended. "So. Can I help you with something, or are you just here to critique my furniture?"
"Nah." He rolled one shoulder, drifting between the shelves, skimming labels without truly reading them. "Just needed a little pick-me-up."
Sylvia looked at the shelf he'd just passed by, the one stocked with drowsiness cures and stamina potions. Things that were, objectively, pick-me-ups. She shook her head, the laugh coming out through her nose.
A minute passed. Maybe two. She kept stirring, watching him browse the way you watch a cat with a habit of knocking things off the table; fond, amused, knowing they're up to something.
"You know," she said, keeping her tone easy, "for a guy who needs a pick-me-up, you sure are taking your sweet time picking one up."
The answering chuckle only egged her on.
"Maybe you should come back in the morning. This seeking enhancer's gonna be a real doozy. Might point you in the right direction."
Finally, he stopped at the shelf nearest the counter and plucked a bottle from the middle row with casual confidence. Held it up to the lantern, turned it once, and nodded. He brought his selection to the counter and rested one hand on the wood, weight shifting forward. The lamplight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the easy tilt of his mouth.
"Here we go." The words came out low, almost lazy. "Already found what I'm after."
Sylvia turned to face him fully, one gloved hand braced on the counter by his. "Well, aren't you a lucky shopper." Then then her gaze dropped to the bottle of fire tonic before snapping back up. "Big fire risk next to the ocean?"
"Not a lotta shade on the beach."
"Sharks can get sunburned?"
"Teach, I've been doing nothin' but get burned since I got here."
Sylvia laughed. The kind that caught her off guard and made her press a hand to her mouth. What followed was less a transaction and more a ritual: negotiations, coins on the counter, the clink of glass.
Sylvia examined the cauldron. The brew had settled, bubbling slow and bright, exactly as it should be. She sighed.
Somewhere in the basement, Roxanne was almost certainly eavesdropping.
