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The inside looked to be well-kept, regularly swept up and tidy. This perhaps because there was so much stocked. Beakers filled with one chemical or another were packed cheek-to-jowel with earthenware pots, reed baskets, even one or two stone or metal containers of this or that. All of it lining the walls, a sort of odd filing system to the compounds within. Each group was marked in a different hue or shade thereof. A danger scale, one might think? Or simply shorthand for the properties contained? Either way, there was nobody in the front. Behind a curtain, there were clinks and grinding noises.

These stopped with a detonation. Not the big sort that one feels rather than hears, but something to rattle the glassware around Masika all the same. Following close on its heels, a skinny redhead barged in from the inner flap, covering his eyes and coughing through the acrid smoke behind. "Venom and broken-oaths! Too much sulfur!" Walking briskly to the counter, he groped for an ewer of water, and poured half out over his eyes, washing away some of the black residue. Still streaming tears and coughing now and then, but he could see again. At first, the green gaze passed right over the girl, before double-taking and realizing his rudeness. "Ah...! Sorry, so sorry about that. Doing some alchemical tests in the back, got to let it air out now. I'm Aire, the healer's 'prentice; what can we help you with?"

The boy, naming himself Aire, cupped a hand to his ear and furrowed his brow. "What? Did you- OH! Right, just a moment. Tad deaf after that mix-up, forgive me." Rooting around under the counter for other concoctions, he soon fished out a sort of eyedropper, along with a dull tannish bulb. The latter was filled with something greenish, labelled red, in point of clarity. Screwing the tube atop the bulb, he raised it, tilted his head, and squeezed the tan end gently. A drop of the fluid entered one ear, and he shuddered at the feel. The other was done, and the frizzy red mass straightened, holding up a finger to beg patience. The moment passed, and the young alchemist snapped his fingers on either side of his head.

Evidently satisfied, he nodded to himself and put the eardropper down on the counter. "Right. Thrice I'll say, sorry for the show and dance. I was testing a new batch of some mix from up in the mountains. Some idiot thought it a potion of immortality, and my master had me trying my hand. Turns out, it does the opposite, by way of explosive reaction to fire." Her look over didn't reveal anything particularly impressive, other than a collection of deeply-set stains on material and skin. No major wounds, no serious burning nor blood. Just a shortish, raw-boned young male with lightly singed palms. These Aire clapped to the table, what he hoped was a bright smile on his face. "So! What seems to be your trouble, miss?"

Healing poultices worked wonders, strained and distilled to essences or jellies. Sometimes a patient could not take the potion orally, or the medicine alone couldn't be applied to the deeper bits of the wound. Punctures came prominently to mind on that one. Thus, gravity delivery and liquid mending. It had been one of Aire's ideas in a pinch, when a Shifter man had been brought in from a goring. Hunting accident, quite nasty, and couldn't swallow a thing; the firehaired boy was rather proud of it, actually. And it worked on burst eardrums, apparently. Tickled something awful. There's downsides to every remedy.

"Good to meet you!" Gentility wasn't one of the 'prentice alchymist's strong suits, but he was at least observant. Rather than a good shake, he took it in his long, deep-stained fingers and held it a moment. Unsure if he was supposed to kiss the offered appendage, the lightning boy opted not to, just in case. The displayed bolt of cloth provided a welcome distraction from social difficulty there. Releasing her hand from his own, it came up to cup a narrow, yellow chin. "Good tight weave, close thread per inch, looks like. There's a couple ways that we could arrange. First isn't quite waterproofing, but it does make the cloth more resistant to moisture, and you can still work it into whatever you want. Most actual waterproofing techniques do only one side of a material. ...But I'm getting ahead of myself. What're you making with it?"

"Believe me, I understand. We've a lot more wind to help blow the humidity away, where I come from." Absent chatter aside, his mind was already moving. A pack...? Then... No, the normal processes shouldn't be an issue for it. Not if it were laid out into the portions required for sewing. A total hydrophobic coating would stiffen the cloth, and add to weight. Then again, the issues with sewing such material were less if the seams were sealed afterwards. Then there was cost. In that regard, Aire, being an honest boy, felt it best to lay out her options plainly. He nodded, and snagged a reed pen, dipping it into the inkpot and scratching down potential options.

"As I see it, you've got a couple ways to go about this, then. First, we could coat the whole bolt in something to prevent it soaking up any moisture. That would make it stiff, though, and hard to sew without puncturing the coating. Still doable, but you'd be better off bringing the component sections of cloth here for doing as a batch, before it's put together. Then you bring it back when it's done, and we seal the seams and corners. I could apply a lighter coating to the outside of a finished pack, and it would take less time and money, sure. But that would also mean that it would soak any moisture on the inside." The slim hands spread out, wiping the pen on the side of his thick apron. "That's off the top of my head, mind. I'm not much of a seamster, myself."

A desert lady? Odd. Then again, from what the redhead remembered of maps, it shared a border with Jauhar anyway. Not so strange, perhaps. But back to business, surely. "It's possible. Most of our treatments are oil or pine-tar based. Unless you want them stinking up your home, I imagine you don't want to keep them during the processes. The tar actually doesn't smell bad while it's setting, it just smells a lot." Waterproofing was a fairly common treatment in these parts, so they had the materials on hand. Given that everyone seemed to swear by their ol' grandmother's method, and nobody's granddam could agree short of saving a child, they had to keep several avenues available. People got cranky when they got it into their heads that you were insulting their old grammy in any way.

...But Aire was woolgathering again. He really did need to work on that, but the world always seemed to move so slowly, there was always time to ponder. Perhaps his brain chemistry was a little off, and- Customer, Aire! "That works for us, Could be a day, could be a couple of days, depending on other clients. My teacher does practice medicine, and sometimes it's just me here. But! Quality work takes time and money to do right, as you can probably tell me. Was there a specific date you wanted this done by?"

"Easy enough, and fairly spoken. Apart from having the pieces to treat, I'd just need to know where to send word." The business side of things chose this time to strike him full on the auburn-hidden forehead. Shortly followed by the heel of his hand. "I went an' forgot to ask. How did you wanna pay, miss? If it were medical, we'd take whet you could spare now and collect the rest later. For this... Half up front and half after work for you?"

The ledger was hefted from its' place under the desk and consulted, finger tracing the line of his own spidery handwriting. He found the correct listed prices, and began spinning out a reciept with his other hand, item by item. Once it was done, that was flipped about and the quill-pen offered, freshly blotted. "What're you in the area for, anyhow?" Her smile had bought a shy return, even in this(in his master's words) seemingly hormone-immune boy.

That was a change of pace. Most of the folk he dealt with had a poor head for figures. Simple arithmetic, this, yes, but not everybody learned their numbers out this way, he found. A pity- Wait, no, she'd continued. A nod, and he produced a pair of shears. A clear space on which to work took more time, however. There were a few liquids to be moved, papers to shuffle about, the coin to stow beneath the counter, and temporary relocations for a tool or two. Having the pieces on-hand would shave time from the process; preparation and timing were key in this business. This way, the dip needn't stew for half a day before they began treatment.

The foreign boy had mentally earmarked the establishment in question, and her reason was none of his business, put that way. Still, it helped to pass the time, and he needed the back to air out anyway. Once the tools and setting were laid, he stepped back to let Masika work. Aire was no professional yet, but the old man had been drilling the basics into his 'soupy prentice brain', for good measure. Tradesman manners were quite different than the social ones, after all, and was an alchymist anything but? "Anyone in particular? Don't need to answer if it's too personal, I'm just curious."