Guest Posted September 17, 2016 Share Posted September 17, 2016 John Battersby's hackney carriage pulled to a stop outside of the modest establishment known as the Golden Pestle. As it settled and the horse champed at it's bit, the man regarded the little shop thoughtfully, carefully packing tobacco into his pipe. The place represented an interesting situation. Some might say difficult, but the Master of the Apothecaries didn't look at life that way. Lighting the pipe, Battersby took a long, thoughtful pull at it before climbing down from the hackney and sending his patient driver to park it. The long, heavy coat with the shoulder cape kept he lightly drifting snow off him, and the hat kept his head warm. He glanced in the window, then up at the sign, and finally extended one gloved hand and knocked on the door. Madamoiselle would be expecting him. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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