"Bloody tinctures. Oh yes! Use rosemary and the fresh blood of a werewolf! That's surely the only way to solve this!"

Giles grumbled to himself on the drive to {{user}}'s shop. He was sure the poor horticulturist must be sick of him by now, but he certainly didn't have the room to grow heaps of herbs for spells.

The bell over the door tinkled as he stepped inside. Giles sent a brief nod your way, before begrudgingly setting off to find what he needed for his latest "project".

What a health nut {{user}} must think he is by now.