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The shop was closed, but the door left unlocked, just on the off chance that someone important should arrive. Admittedly, there was a specific someone, one Lyrus hadn't seen since he was a child, one who no amount of searching had revealed, but Jan was probably somewhere on the list. The bell was mirrored by a duplicate rigged upstairs, and within seconds Lyrus was on his feet and heading down to the pawn shop, startled by the lateness of the hour and, thus, briefly hopeful.

But it was Jan. Again, not a bad thing, especially when he saw how upset she looked, but not who he had expected. Showing no surprise at the girl's presence, he moved up behind the counter, folding his arms atop it and leaning over beside Jan. "I like presents. Where're you going?"

"Eighty percent? Damn, I'll come with you." He half meant it. Living alone was growing wearisome, and nights at the club and with people met at the club were redundant. The shop was doing well, but it was still junk and clutter, which Lyrus rather despised, and plans for success and new shops were quickly becoming simple dreams. Something needed to change.

He accepted the record in silence, taking the time to peek inside and examine the label while Jan continued. After a long pause, he chuckled softly, drawing the record from it's label. "That's ridiculous." It had been a good while since he had seen Anisia, but the memories were fond ones, and he was quite sure he would see more of the girl once she decided to grow up a bit. Anisia was his, and Jan knew better than to step in. He trusted her.

Still chuckling softly, he circled around the counter and weaved his way through a maze of junk to the window display, which happened to be an old phonograph. It needed a bit of repair work, but a few bangs and tweaks had it working good enough for the present. He set the record, and within seconds the first song of the opera filled the small shop. Surprisingly, Lyrus nodded his approval, listening from where he stood for a moment before turning and heading back towards the counter. "Ancelin's got a bar of soap crammed up her a**. When're you coming back?"

"That soon, huh?" He grimaced, leaning against the counter as before and pulling at his bottom lip. Tomorrow was not far off, and no idea could mean years. It was a sobering thought, knowing he might never see the girl again, especially when he had little to no contact with most of the other Sins nowadays. "...Promise you'll write, at least." He ordered, and immediately changed the subject.

"We're going to have a party." Straightening up, he stepped back around the counter and to the cabinets beyond, pulling open and pair and digging through. "A going away party. Just you and me. We're going to sit here, listen to Carmen, and get roaring drunk. And then I'll walk you home so no one kills you. Everyone should have a hangover for their first day at boarding school."

"Tch." He spoke with his head half in the cabinet, pushing bottles one way and another. The sounds echoed strangely in the small space, bouncing off the walls and the bottles to greet Jan with an almost hollow tone. "I don't need your help with girls, Jan. I just kept you around to amuse them when I got bored."

Which was the Lyrus way of saying he certainly wouldn't be replacing her. Finally drawing out a bottle, he eyed the label critically before passing it to Jan and delving back into the cabinet. "When you're gone? I'll finally have time to work on this junk heap without being pestered by little girls. Maybe I can actually start selling s**t and clean up the flat a bit."

"Height means nothing," he countered, withdrawing a second tall bottle and again inspecting the label. "Only on Tuesdays. Damned useless Tuesdays." Satisfied with his selection, he closed the cabinet and straightened up, stepping over to join her on the dusty sofa.

"Much easier said than done." Taking a seat beside her, he set the bottle on his lap and draped an arm across the couch behind her, more out of habit than anything. With his free hand, he set about opening the bottle, uncerimoniously dropping the cap on the floor. Each bottle was large, easily too much for either of the Sins to stomach, but Lyrus didn't seem like he expected to be storing any afterwards.

Lifting the bottle by its neck, he waved it in a wide gesture to include the entire room, grimacing. "When junk's your trade, you can't throw anything away. ********' hate this shop," he added, and promptly took a long drink directly from the bottle.

"I don't want to work for anyone else." He shrugged, taking a second, longer pull from the bottle, grimacing slightly at the strong taste as he set the bottle between his legs. Both good and bad. Liquid fire. "The flat's free long as the shop's mine. I don't have anywhere else to live, and I don't have the money to start a new business--yet."

He paused, thoughtfully lifting the bottle to his lips once more, but after only a short sip set it down again, eyes moving towards the stairwell. "..Can you keep a secret?" A stupid question, perhaps, given who he was talking to, but one wrong word could send all of his plans down the drain and drowning in crap.

He began to stand, paused, and returned to his seat. Lifting the bottle, he tossed his head back and chugged,downing a good fourth of the bottle's firey liquid lifting his head and setting the bottle aside. He coughed softly, cleared his throat against the strong drink, and finally rose, striding off for the stairs.

About two-thirds of the way up he paused, crouching, and pride up one of the rickety steps, retrieving from beneath it a dust encrusted bottle. Leaving the step open, he started back for Jan, cleaning the bottle off as he walked and leaving dusty handprints all over his shirt. Beneath the dust, the bottle was, to say the least, stunning. Amazingly crafted with tiny shapes and images, crystal clear despite the lot, with a large ornate stopper carefully crafted to the top. Indeed, it seemed to be part of the bottle itself, and clearly was not meant to be removed. A dark, faintly purple-ish liquid filled the bottle to the brim, plainly seen through the clear sides.

On his way back to the sofa, he retrieved a large, far from spectacular bowl from one of the shelves, quite the contrast to the fantastic glass bottle in his hands. He set the bowl beside the couch, passed the bottle to Jan, and dropped back down beside her, watching her expectantly.