The herbs and paper are all stacked and tied neatly into a bundle by the time they return from the tour of the garden. Emrys is somehow still chattering with the woman in purple, and Myrlin thanks him internally for his commendable effort. Pieces and papers are exchanged, and Richard leaves behind his business card in case of further contact. 

One of the two others has left already, as Myrlin spots a space in between the Kamoon and Yuka potions where a wad of paper Pieces have been placed. The remaining customer is trying his luck in the Spells shelves, pulling and pushing out volumes of leather-bound indexes with care. He picks up the stack of Pieces and stuffs them into the cashier, then decides to first rescue Emrys from his nearing limits. 

‘A pleasure to meet you,’ his hand extends for the lady in purple to take as he strides towards them, ‘I am the owner of the Apothecary; you may call me Myrlin. Could I have your name, Miss?’

Taking the invitation and giving it a firm shake, he finds himself mirroring her polite smile. Her eyes, he notes, are also a shade of purple. Lavender, he adds, and periwinkle. 

‘Ianthe.’ The flowerfield in his mind vanishes as she speaks, shades and hues of purple and violet shattering into balls and droplets of gold, while scents of lilac linger in the air. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Myrlin.' 

'Well met.' Emrys snickers under his breath, and he sticks his foot at his ankle. 'I hope Mr. Murdock here hasn't bored you yet with his small talk.’ 

Ianthe’s lips stretch info a tooth-filled smile in return. 'He was just telling me about your adventures in obtaining a healthy ashwagandha plant. You're quite the traveller for your age, aren't you?'

Emrys titters again with his hand clamped over his mouth. Myrlin has the urge to hit him on the head, but reminds himself that manners are indeed important, and ultimately decides against it. 'Looks can be deceiving, Miss Ianthe. But, do you still need help with finding whatever it is that you need? Or have you picked something out already?'

Ianthe beams a sweet twinkle at him. ‘I’m looking for Belladonna. I believe you do have some here, right?’ A hand raises to cup her cheek, and she tilts her head slightly. ‘It’d be a shame if you didn’t — I’d have to go all the way to Germany just to pick some up.’ 

He glances at Emrys from the corner of his eye, and the latter is also peeping back at him. ‘I suppose we do have some in the back. Would you,’ he breaks the slightest eye contact that they’ve established and focuses back entirely on Ianthe, ‘need anything like a recipe or such?’ 

‘Your concern is appreciated, but I have everything prepared already.’ Her smile stretches unbelievably wide, teeth baring and white gleaming. ‘Just the final ingredient to finish the batch with.’ 

Emrys seems slightly unnerved by her dulcet tone, but Myrlin finds himself even more so. Her eyes, he realises, have never blinked at all. 

'Follow me,' he manages, and enters the garden once again. Belladonna, being the dangerous plant it was, was planted near the walls of the yard; with its strong, upright stem, healthy leaves, and plump black berries, many a non-suspecting child would have picked a berry or two and savoured the sweet fruit. 

Myrlin's bare fingers trace its leaves slowly, a pale green to contrast with the black of the berries, and hisses involuntarily when he abruptly flinches away from the plant. Upon further inspection, he realises that there are small curved cuts on his palm, made light and clean enough that no blood has appeared yet. The lines stand pinkish against his pale skin, dots and colours splashed across upon contact with the herb. He knows that no simple plant could’ve made cuts as clean as these, and that belladonna was poisonous and as harmful as a poisonous plant could be — he’s a doctor for whatever’s sake — but Ianthe’s smile seems to have stretched even further, a true ear-to-ear one at this point even though he can barely tell from his blurring vision. 

‘Rather careless for a doctor, aren’t you? You’ve never seemed to use gloves all this time; I thought I’d conduct a little experiment.’ Her fingers are curled around her chin, nails glinting under the summer sun. ‘A harmless one, indeed. Thank you, dear Myrlin. I’ll be taking my leave now.’ 

He staggers across the dirt and grabs onto Emrys, who steadies him by the shoulders before taking off after the woman. ‘Looks can be deceiving, Sir Myrlin!’ She cackles from beyond the garden, the teasing tone of her voice making his chest swell and heartbeat quicken. ‘Seems like you haven’t learnt your lesson just yet!’