The Apothecary.

Cecil’s always been familiar with them. He grew up ill, his bones aching and his heart weak all throughout his childhood, so he’s had to visit such places many a time. No matter what town he visits, no matter which manor he decides to stay in, the apothecary is always the first establishment he goes to the moment he’s free enough to do so.

That’s why he’s here now, standing under the apothecary’s sign, clutching his cane as if nervous. Well, in truth, visiting new places is always a bit nerve wracking for the lonely writer, so he supposes it’s not too surprising. Cecil takes in a breath. It’s only a medicine shop. It’s nothing to be afraid of.

Cecil pushes the door open, hearing the familiar ring-a-ding! of the bell above the door ringing to announce his entrance. “Good morning,” He greets to nobody in particular, his gaze lowered as he hobbles inside, “I’m here to pick up my…” Cecil pauses as he glances up, his words trailing off and his eyes meeting the pharmacist’s gaze before immediately glancing away. Oh gosh, what a face... what a truly lovely face.