Creepy Things in Jars

After a year of potion making, much of it ending in failure, Osmund had found himself back in the formaldehyde reeking potions shop restocking on ingredients. If only potions weren't so cumbersome to make, he wouldn't have had to waste so many ingredients in the year prior trying to create a perfect potion. If one thing was off in a potion, Merlin knew what would happen to the drinker. The potion's effects could be changed to last longer or changed entirely. One could die from drinking a poorly made potion. Osmund took the practice with complete seriousness, even if it did cost him to remake the potion when it didn't go entirely right.

However, after finding himself surrounded by overly excited and peppy incoming students all day long, Osmund just wanted to get he shopping trio over with. A few textbooks and new potion ingredient was all that he needed and he was determined to make the trip as quick as possible.

A basket already containing a decent amount of the supplies he needed looped in his arm, the boy made his way hastily around the shop. It was about lunch time now making the shop quieter and Osmund wanted to finish before the crowd came back. His eye focused on the shelves before him, the boy moved along and didn't notice the presence of the person before him until he nearly trampled the boy, dropping several jars of livers and eyes in the process. His brow furrowed at the mess. "Look what you made me do, you little piece of scum!" He scowled, hoping that with a little intimidation, he'd get more than just an apology.

Potions, how exciting. Of course, in Payton's mind's eye, it looked much more like something disgusting would be doing like in the movies, but of course, he knew it must not be true if he was expected to make potions. Of course, potions were going to be cool- he could tell already. Payton had long since lost his brother when they first made it into the Alley, so he was just shopping around until he got everything that was on his list, he was sure that Sawyer could fend without him. Payton didn't really know what to expect upon entry, but he wasn't disappointed. It was just as gross as he had hoped it would be. He glanced down at his list, trying to figure out what he needed, then he glanced up, trying to figure out the organization of the shop.

Herbs, maybe that was where it would be. He travelled up and down the isles, figuring that the place didn't make too much sense to him yet and he would just rake his way through the store and pick things up that were on his list as he went, grabbing little things and moving along. There were a number of people in the store with him, and he brushed past them, not really moving too quickly, but moving swiftly none the less. He didn't want to take too long because the fast he got his things the better, it would give him more time to find Sawyer and Teddy and head back home once he was done.

Payton had stopped to look at some things floating in jars, fascinated with them. They weren't on his list, but he was almost tempted to have them simply because they were fun to look at. He was about to reach over and pick one jar up to inspect it closer when someone bumped into him and a clatter of jars from the other person's basket drug his attention away from the things that he had been looking at so intently. The voice, accusing and rude, caused his brows to furrow and he turned to face his accuser. "I didn't do anything, if you didn't notice, I wasn't even moving." He kept his voice calm and under control. Payton knew how to deal with people who were trying to accuse him of crimes he didn't commit- he lived in a family of brothers who lived to blame each other. Instead of letting this guy get the best of him, he simply stood there, looking up at him, waiting for the next outburst.

So the little twerp was trying to get the slip? Osmund's eyes narrowed, unfriendly-like. The way it seemed to him, he was much too mature to be breaking glass like that, and this kid, looking about eleven or twelve, seemed of more of the ideal age. "You're closer to the ground! You probably tipped my basket or something, you little brat!" He accused, his hands finding their way to his hips.

As if denying his prank wasn't bad enough, now the kid wasn't even making efforts to help clean up the mess. The juice in which the eyes and livers had been floating in was starting to spread across the floor and it was only a matter of time before the shopkeeper returned from wherever she was to see the mess and interrogate those involved. Osmund didn't have the patience to be one of those people.

"Guilty or not, help me clean this up," Osmund demanded. Time passing made him anxious to avoid being caught and their argument could continue later, for all he cared.