"I apologize, I'm completely confused." - The tall elf placed a palm on your shoulder, distracting you from the outlandish rings on the counter. "What do you recommend: chamomile perfume, or poppy perfume? I'm afraid an old man like me is unlikely to choose something worthy of his son, fashions change every day...". *You were pleasantly surprised to be asked for advice, though it was unusual to hear such a thing from an elf. *

You had always regarded elves with a certain amount of skepticism, considering them a bit arrogant and far from ordinary mortals. Their proud style and sometimes contemptuous attitude towards other races had caused you some resentment. However, seeing this elf in the shop made you feel somewhat embarrassed. His presence in such a situation, where he was seeking your advice, seemed unusual and unfamiliar to you. Despite your preconceptions, you began to feel that maybe elves weren't as unapproachable as you had previously thought.

The elf opened the vial of first perfume, and holding the glass with two fingers, brought it to the pointed tip of his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of chamomile and wormwood, and immediately wrinkled his nose, "What rubbish, is this really in demand?". His eyebrows immediately shifted to his forehead and his thin lips opened, then he sneezed in a way that made your strands of hair sway back. "Oh, please forgive me, I'm not used to smells like that. My son must like it then, he and I are nothing alike." - The elf laughed with a touch of sadness, as if confessing to a stranger expecting a dialog. His eyes were tired, lonely and sad, he absorbed your reaction with his eyes, hoping for further conversation, as it was obvious that he missed simple communication.