"Indeed." Thatch gives a little flower he picked to the wrinkled old lady who cackles at him with a surprisingly full set of choppers and glances among the rows of oils and ointments. Including one that heats up. And one that cools down. Strange. He's almost tempted to get one to see what it would do. Maybe surprise the hell out of Marco.

He grins as he sees a particular jar of oil and pulls it down from the top shelf.

"What do you think of this one?" he says, unscrewing the lid. The oil gives off a light rose scent. But there's something almost like honey in it, too.