"Gods," Eilidh quickly threw a wrist up to cover a cough as a plume of thick smoke blew across her face, twisting her body out of the way, "Every time I come here, there's something new to assault the senses. Some new contraption or invention or- whatever new toy Finn has had imported and has showing off at his store."

Skyla's blank face remained, though a gentle smile crossed her, "Emporium, I do believe. He actually had some interesting- exploding backpack the other day. A parachute, he referred to it as. It's supposed to stop somebody from falling."

"Uh huh. Any word on what they would be falling from?"

"He didn't get that far, nor did he get any volunteers," her face returned sullen and blank, as though overcome with tabula rasa in all its form, "He wasn't exactly quick to hurry out and volunteer, himself, either."

Eilidh shrugged, the basket in her hands rustling against her torso, "No, I wouldn't have thought so." Her eyes wandered around the two as they walked beside one another, examining the gentle buildings of Dumbarton; despite her displeasure, it remained something of a favorable compromise between her home and the bustling streets of Glasgow, which sat further down the road. Even beyond the limits of one of the major hubs of the Scottish Enlightenment, many advancements of the late 18th Century managed to find their way out here, largely due to the work of Finn Downie, an enterprising businessman who worked as import-exporter for many of the same clients Eilidh worked for, wowing the local elite with impressive machinations and gob smacking feats of achievement, some of which a student would inevitably as Eilidh about, leaving her utterly baffled about. Their friendship had begun as a result, a question about steam being used to power machines leading to Eilidh needing to inquire about the man, who, after a lengthy process, admitted he hadn't much knowledge on the process himself - he was equally storyteller as much as import-exporter, he explained.

Skyla spoke up, "I'm quite excited about your new friend, though."

"I'd hardly call it a friend; it's a wild animal," she groaned in answer.

"Oh, but seals are so cute from what I've seen!"

Eilidh gave her a sidelong glance, "You're not going to cozy up to it. I don't need an intimate knowledge of wildlife to understand when not to tame a creature; I'm simply going to help it heal and release it back into the wild. The last thing we need is for it to associate humans with friends, and then some horrible hunter - probably the very same one who harmed it in the first place - getting an easy pot shot on it as it waddles up to him."

"Well," Skyla sighed, "We won't have to worry much about it seeing a friend, then."

Lips twisted into a frown, Eilidh wondered with accusation, "And what does that mean?"

"Oh, my dear, you know. Ari basically had to adopt you, you were so helpless to making friends," Skyla explained, despite her rather placid face, her voice was dripping with teasing intent, "You ought to be the first to admit that you're not exactly the most- inviting individual."

Eilidh's frown sunk further, "Well, I'm not-"

"You live out in the hills."

"Okay, so I'm not the biggest fan of human beings."

Skyla sighed, "Misanthrope. Bella would correctly describe it as an intense dislike of mankind."

Tilting her head, Eilidh's face tensed approvingly, "Mankind, huh? I actually quite like that." She noted the pithy stare having fallen atop her, causing her to rally. "Okay, I know, I can be a bit sour. I guess that just makes me the right one for the job of nursing a seal back to health. I doubt it will want to remain beyond the shores of Loch Lomond by the time I'm done with it."

"Just make sure you know what you're doing. I'd hate for any harm to come to the poor thing."

"I already have Bell on the case. She was the first person I found when I stepped into town; she's checking every shelf in town, public and private, for any information on seals, and aquatic mammals in general."

Skyla questioned, almost aghast, "Private?"

"Oh, she's in with most of the more esteemed patrons of the literary arts here in-" Eilidh caught herself, "Oh, gods, I'm starting to sound like her. She knows most of the people here in town - and most of those in Glasgow, as a matter of fact - with extensive libraries. I suppose it pays to acquire and exchange books as voraciously as that one."

Nodding, Skyla wondered, "I suppose so. I've never taken her to be much of the 'adopting misanthrope' type in my limited meetings with her."

"She's not. We largely met for business at first, but she's become a dear friend over the years. and one hell of a card player, oddly enough," Eilidh noted with surprise lining her words, "Pretty well connected, as you'd imagine. Most of my clients come from her, in fact."

Skyla nodded, her face remaining rather still as she acknowledged with a heartened cadence, "I often forget you've a life beyond Ali and myself. It's quite nice to hear."

"Well, I mean, it's not as if I'm out carousing with the bourgeoise or anything while you two have your backs turned," Eilidh frowned, "I'm mostly at home- saving wildlife, apparently."

Now smiling, Skyla's eyes wandered toward her friend, "Are you in need of assistance in that matter?"

"Not unless one of Bella's tomes mentions the need for petting or caressing of the seal's skin in its healing process, I think your aid will merely be a hindrance."

Clutching her blouse atop her chest, Skyla feigned a pain coursing across her sternum, "Gah, how you pain me, Lady Stewart."

"Eww," Eilidh shuddered at the turn of phrase, turning across her friend's gait to direct her around a corner, "In any case, you can help me pick out supplies for the thing. I'd like some towels, maybe an extra bucket or two, just in case it needs more water than I'm expecting."

"Hmm, and Finn has all that you need?"

"Well, it's an emporium, is it not? That begs one's imagining of a grand stock, doesn't it?"

Skyla frowned, "True, but beg my healthy skepticism after years of knowing Finn and his manner of business. I'd say his stock is more- foreign to the mind than anything I'd expect. Towels and buckets, perhaps- Odd trinkets and equipment from across the world, almost a certainly."

Eilidh nodded, sighing with a longing tone to her voice, "Well, a girl can dream, I suppose. We'll see what he has, and- Go somewhere else if need be. I do like to suppose- Would you call it local business?"

Rolling her eyes, Skyla followed Eilidh into a small shop that sat in the middle of the avenue, a rather run-of-the-mill place that appeared so out of place considering the rather immense name that ran across the storefront: 'Finn Downie's Emporium Extra-Ordinaire!'. The text itself invoked a plethora of emotions, ranging from awe, excitement, perhaps, to those uninitiated; almost as though a circus had been unraveled and somehow reconstituted in the middle of Dumbarton. To those who knew Finn Downie, however, like Eilidh and Skyla, such promises were, well-

"Ah! There you are!" Finn's booming voice crashed across the store, echoing through and past the small group of customers standing in front of the counter. He quickly rounded the wooden cabinet, hurrying toward the door, bowing as he rushed, nearly collapsing in his haste, "Allow me to welcome you back to my humble establishment!"

Taking Eilidh's hand, he shook it vigorously, jolting her forward with a rather forceful, jarring motion that pulled her forward, the woman's ear being tugged toward his ear, "You're my French cousin from Nice."

He spun back around, shouting back toward the customers, "Look who it is! Adrienne, just who I was speaking of!"

The group of three watched with a range of interest as Finn returned, hustling back with Eilidh following behind him, her face pale with expectation, though she quickly fell in after him, and not just in his gait, as her voice arose, "Ah, voilesz vou, mon-a-mee! Mon-chere, my friends."

The customers whispered amongst themselves, clearly and utterly awed by the broken and nonsensical French as though they had no reason to believe it inauthentic. Finn nodded exuberantly, returning to his post, waving the two newcomers forward.

"Yes, yes; she's been a dear cousin of mine for years now. She was the one who brought to me this steam-powered motor, you see? You just use a flame beneath this beaker, the steam from the water rises, turning the propeller, the mechanism inside- does a whirly thing, and poof! It's a great little trinket for children's parties. She swore to having made, what, a thousand livre a month selling parties to the masses?" He turned to the customers. "She was a party clown before coming here to join me and graciously parting with her stock."

Eilidh frowned, quickly returning a smile as the customers returned their gazes to her, "Ah, wee wee, my cousin. It was certainly, ah- heartbreak, as it were."

Nodding, Finn sighed, "Yes, well, I'm sure these fine folks will cherish it just as much as you. Now, let me go retrieve a sack for you!"

The man hustled into the backroom, leaving the customers alone. Eilidh sighed, begging from herself the ramshackle French once more, "You know, second thought- I can't bear to part." She grabbed the steam engine? and tugged it closer to herself, dramatically raising her head skyward. "Much too many memory! Go now! Leave me be! Go. Go!"

Baffled, the customers quickly filed out of the emporium, wildly curious eyes marring their faces, though they exited with a quickness that signaled abject terror. Eilidh groaned, shoving the engine? away as Skyla muffled a laugh behind a dignified hand before her lips, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I hate people," Eilidh scowled.

Rushing back to the counter, Finn's voice was jovial and rather angelic, "Ah, lovely! I found a burlap sack that will-! Hey, where'd they go?!"

Eilidh shrugged, her voice back to normal, "I guess they came to their senses."

His shoulders slumping, Finn's lips curved downward, "You know, I've been trying to sell this thing for months, and I almost had 'em."

"A good salesman shouldn't need suckers."

Finn eyed her severely, "I never claimed to be a good salesman." He collected the steam engine? before setting it beneath the counter. "I don't even know what this thing does. Accursed thing. Looks like it's something they used to urinate into in search of a philosopher's stone."

"Maybe don't use that in the marketing," Skyla noted dryly, stepping toward a nearby shelving unit, examining the wares there, "Do you know how half the things in here operate?"

"I have an idea," he admitted, pointing a finger across the room, "Somebody brought that thing in here the other day, calling it a bicycle. You obviously sit your ass up there and use your feet to spin the chain thing and la-dee-doo-da-day."

Skyla's face was wry, "Is that the technical term?"

His face grew sour, "Is there a reason you two decided to grace my shop today besides running out my customers?"

"Would it help if we were customers ourselves?" Eilidh sat her basket atop the counter.

The older man's scowl remained, though he crossed his arms, shrugging, "...it would be a start, I suppose."

"Good," Eilidh nodded, reaching to her back and whipping out her musket, causing Finn to recoil in an instant.

"Careful!" he shouted, ducking in place.

Eilidh rolled her eyes, dropping the firearm in front of the basket, "It's not loaded, you bangpot. It just needs repairing; the butt is cracked, and I don't need it blowing up or anything when I do fire it."

"When?" inquired the shopkeeper, "You have rabblerousers out there?"

A shrug, "Maybe. Some hunters, at least, from the look of it."

Finn's face tensed with curiosity, leaving Skyla to explain from across the store, "She's nursing an injured seal."

"Interesting," Finn nodded, slowly crouching down, "You know, I bet a steam engine would be just the thing for a-"

"I might consider it if you hadn't had me be party to your silly little game with that ridiculous accent."

He groaned, returning upright, "Well, I knew you wouldn't do Cockney." He pulled the musket closer, examining it closely. "The bloody blazes you do to it?!"

"The seal was trapped in ice- it's a long story; does it really even matter?"

Finn glanced up toward her, "My guy is pretty particular."

"Your guy?"

"Well, I don't just sit back here and whittle brand new muskets. I have a guy that I'll take this two - a Frenchman, coincidentally - and he'll be the one to repair it. He'll charge me, and I'll pass the charge on to you," his brow narrowed for a moment before wavering, "At minimal interest, for the accent."

She admitted, "Well, now, that's more like it." Turning to Skyla, who was approaching the counter, Eilidh explained further. "If you don't mind facilitating that, all we'll need are some supplies that- I'm rather shocked you have in stock."

"Well, I have to keep some regular business," he explained, taking the musket and stowing it away beneath the counter, "Should only take a week, I'd think. Now-" he examined the goods Skyla sat in front of him, "-I suppose this all is for your visitor?"

Eilidh nodded, "Very astute, sir."

Nodding himself, Finn's expression grew complex as he put together the puzzle pieces before him, "It's just- I'm having a difficult time believing this is a seal we're referring to and not some poor soul."

Turning a fierce glare toward Skyla, Eilidh complained, "I knew we should have taken our business elsewhere."

Her friend smirked as Finn simply pulled the stock closer, judging the price with no further complaint beyond a soft grumbling neither of the two could make out, using the sack he had brough out earlier to stow away the goods before handing them back to the guests.

"There. Eight pounds," he frowned.

Eilidh nodded, paying the man with a smile and a horrific French accent, "Zhank you, sir."

Rolling his eyes, Finn complained, "I better not hear about any locals being shot and having gone missing!"

"And what are you going to do if you were?"

The man eyed the two before shrugged, "I dunno. I've got a nifty parachute I might could pawn off in the aftermath somehow, now that you mention it."

"Get that musket back it working order, and I'll get you all the business you want," Eilidh smiled, raising a hand over her shoulder, "Have a good one, Finn."

Skyla did the same, the man nodding behind the counter, gesturing their leave with a motion of his hand, "Yeah, yeah; see you later."