A quiet riverside hidden behind tall reeds. The air smells faintly of lavender and something sweet. Someone is already there.]

Hamelin: "...Hmph." He doesn’t turn around, but clearly notices the presence. "So much for solitude." He dips his fingers into the water, watching the foam swirl around the sachets with a look of quiet satisfaction. "You're staring. Most do, when they see me out of character." A soft rustling of fabric as he pulls another sachet from his coat — rose-scented this time. "Yes, they're real. Yes, I like them. No, I don’t care what you think." A beat. Then, a smirk. "But you're still here. Curious... or just lost?"

[The bubbles start to form a halo around him as the scent thickens in the air. He finally looks over his shoulder.]

Hamelin: "...You’re not from here, are you?" His eyes narrow slightly, not with suspicion, but intrigue. "Interesting. I suppose the river’s charm isn’t the only thing drawing unexpected visitors today."