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Ssessriel had grown bored, and irritated, with waiting for the shiny folk to look for a warrior. He had also run out of food, and that made his temper even worse. So he had decided to wander down to the river. It wasn't hard, he could smell the moisture on the air. Ssessriel was sure that some of the shiny folk would have a problem with him wandering through the city, but he would welcome a confrontation as he travelled the trashed streets of the trainyards. Ssessriel grinned at the thought, if reptiles could grin, and allowed his long forked tongue to slip past his rows of needle-sharp teeth to flick the air, at the same time allowing lungfulls of his rancid breath to escape into the crowd around him.

A fascinated and childlike smile spread across her face, Mint lifted her fingers to touch the object of her interest. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Reddin. Yes, Ma'am, I do have plenty of medicinal herbs. I am quite clumsy, so I have to keep plenty stocked. Although, I'm not quite sure I have an abundance of poppies. I could grow some rather quickly if you could give me an estimate on the number of plants you require." She said, sliding back a cabinet door and pulling a large, wooden case with a red cross painted on the front. The case, she gave to the woman as she opened the door to the roof. "Please." She said, stepping back and bowing slightly so they could enter the stairwell.

With a little maneuvering Mary twisted the base of the bell jar in the carriage before heaving the remains of Dr. Redden into her arms before advancing towards the stairwell. She looked up in the direction in which it lead before ultimately deciding it would do no harm and began climbing upwards.

"Sorry to make such a request of you ma'am." Dr. Redden continued to talk as his assistant carried him. "Our usual supplier has gone missing it seems. Not all that surprising here. He might have gotten fed up with doing business here which is most unfortunate for us. Now we have to process all of our own medicines until we can find another supplier." He all but rambled his tone of voice hinting towards more of his disappointment than acceptance of the situation.

There are some things that are, sadly enough, a cliche.

The police officer eating sweetened pastries of some sort. The style of dog that spends it's time with the ones that fight fires. And, of course, the shadowy merchant sitting in a quiet corner of a shadowy bar, left conspiculously alone despite the crowds or lack thereof in the rest of the building.

These things are far too trite to be used by an author. Some elements are true, such as the taste in sweets. Others are lies, like inbred and half-blind tempremental beasts allowed to stay at a place of havok applied to true problems. And the last is more something of neccesity. Some things can't be sold at a corner stall, and one who trades in them surely cannot place himself into common view.

A cliche, but sadly true. And that alone was why Robert DunRoan was quietly relaxing and sipping at his drink, alone at a booth at his favorite bar. After all, if people want the rather... Rare things he can aquire, they know where to find him.

"Morphine." Mary answered for the doctor as she paused to stare at one of the moving flowers, she moved her finger slowly back and forth before it taking a somewhat childish pleasure in watching it follow her movements.

Dr Redden mimicked a sound much like that of clearing his throat if he had anything remotely like one to clear. "Morphine is derived from the opium poppies make. It is much easier to use than that troublesome ether. Ether tends to make my patients a touch sicker in the end than in the beginning."

Mint giggled at Mary's playfulness with her plants. They enjoyed the attention. One smallish flower with glossy yellow petals leaned forward and tickled the tip of her finger with its stamen.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I think you misunderstood. I know morphine is easily made from opium poppies, that's one of the reason I keep an entire flat of them on hand." She balanced the tray of peculiar poppies against her hip and walked towards the door, selecting a few additional plants as she saw them. "I was just curious as to the reason so much morphine is needed. I don't know most of the people in this city, but I still worry for them." Mint stepped over a patch of pumpkin-sized tomatoes to stand next to Mary. "Oh! It looks like they've taken a liking to you. They don't normally play with strangers."

Silva looked at the interior of the shop more closely. He wondered how one could import all these exotic plants from all across the world. Shaking his head, he laughed and looked over each plant with interest.

He hoped whoever had called out to him would come down soon. He was anxious to ask his questions and meet new people. To pass the time he started to talk to the plants, a pass time he picked up while among so many plants in his life. He knew that plants had minds, and tried to befriend as many as he could.

"My dear friends, how are you today? Seems that you are being well taken care off." He said with a small chuckle.

Ezra's ears twitched as he heard to the thump of the cactus on the dock...and lucky for the cactus the water-swollen wood was soft, or it's precious flesh would've been bruised. As it was, the cactus just rolled over and shambled over to where the half-gob sat with it's little root feet. Ezra looked at it, the little prickly creature wiggling about, hopping and dancing, and it danced a little too vigorously and closely to the edge. It almost ended up going into the river, had not Ezra's quick reflexes and gloved hands did not snatch it up. The thick leather of the black gloves protected Ezra, as he turned the little prickly dancer back and forth in his hands "What a strange magical thing." Ezra mused with a wheeze from his throat.

The half-gob looked over to the storefront and quirked an eyebrow. Where else did such a thing come from. He nibbled more on his fish and bread meal, looking at the last of the alcoholic sailor's punch in it's clay mug. "Hey, little prickly thing. Here, drinks on me." And he set the cactus on the lip of the jug, and let it drink as all plants would. "Better get you back to your shop." He lifted the dancing cactus up, and trotted briskly to the shop itself, opening the door with one hand as he slipped inside, and yelled out, doing his best angry, authoritarian voice "Where is the Owner of this establishment! This is the City Guard!" If Ezra's wheezing bellow was not enough to make a man fear incarceration, not much would.