(He’s cut it to a depth of about a quarter of the tree’s diameter.)
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“Okay, okay, I’m waiting!” He waits for you to catch up, before heading back to his family’s house.
“Dad keeps the handle under his bed so it’s harder to steal the cart, but I’ll be right back with it!”
“Steal the cart?” Arius is shocked by the kid’s statement. Vin had said it in such a tone as if it wasn’t his first time doing it.
“Vin, do you aspire to become a thief instead of following your father’s profession? Just tell him the truth and ask him to borrow the cart!”
18
(30)
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('m pretty tired and just forgot, the thing was we were thinking it couldn’t have been alchemy by a townsfolk unless they bought it literally yesterday, which Isn’t Possible if it is a town over)
(squirrel and I will go to the front of the town’s general store, then)
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(Sure. What do I roll for that?)
(Type: @discobot roll 1d20)
Canary looks to the side. “Sorry.”
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“Huh?” Drakor asked, looking at her. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“…I. Forgot. That. The potions shop is.”
{I consider bringing up again my… story about being frazzled by the murder… but if it matters to him he’d remember.}
“…Way too far.”
“We’d… only be able to go to the general store.”
{And given the manner of forgetting this, I’m starting to disbelieve that it’s just an excuse.}
She looks to the floor, still walking towards what she now recognises as just the general store.
“I don’t. Really. Go around town a lot. So I misremembered. Sorry.”
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Drakor shrugged. “If the potion shop is too far, we can visit another day. I do need additional supplies regardless, so I am not opposed to the general store.”
He looked at her closely. “Are you quite alright, friend? If my presence is bothering you, you may simply direct me to the store and I will bid you goodbye. I do not wish to impose.”
“It’s not stealing if I take it! I’m his kid!”
{I think he set me up well enough for this. So…}
“It’s uhm. Not your fault.”
{Don’t entirely alleviate blame. Leave a little room for doubt.}
“It’s just that…”
{Segue into my ask being intertwined with something vaguely wrong, but don’t be open enough he feels like. Asking. Hopefully.}
“When we’re at the store could I please… sit outside when you go in? It’s…”
{I… should’ve thought of a better excuse in all my stalling.}
“Uncomfortable. Inside.”
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You’re fairly confident that he’s sincere in his suspicions – there’s a level of confidence to his voice and fluidity to his gestures that would be hard for him to fake. He does seem nervous about being accused, but given that Nyna is accusing him, that’s not exactly irrational, and it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to conceal his reactions or anything like that.
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“That is fine. I am the one shopping - I was not under the impression that you needed anything, given that you live here.” He frowned. “That said… is there conflict between you and someone at this store? Should I not support it with my patronage?”
You have to retrace some of your steps, but the general store isn’t far from Hasse Holm’s house. It’s essentially a log cabin, one story tall, with a little sign outside that has painted images of a barrel and a bundle of cloth. The door is propped slightly open, and there’s a windchime hanging in front of it, tinkling in the spring breeze.
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“I’m bad with tight spaces.” I lie through my teeth.
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