Chapter Text
Rose Lalonde’s apothecary smelled like turpentine, smoke and rosemary. That’s just the way she liked it. Her cousin Dave loathed it. He hated the dust and the hundreds of shelves and the creaky floorboards. He told her this as often as he could.
She resented it.
“If you’re going to come here and complain about every single thing I own smelling like a dead body, which may I remind you they don’t, then why stop by in the first place? Wouldn’t you rather spend your time doing your knight-y things like,” she paused. IT was hard to think of knight-y things, come to think of it. “What is it that you actually do Sir David?”
“Why do you got to be like that Rose?” Dave asked.
“Because if gets on your nerves, then I’m fulfilling my duty as a wondrous relative,” Rose said. “But seriously, stop bitching about the herbs. If you don’t like the smell then leave,”
“And what will you do in the meantime? Grind up drugs and wizard-y potions and poisons until that dressmaker down the road happens to need medicine for whatever a dressmaker might need medicine for? What are you going to do, hit her with some plague so you can treat her? Face it Rose, if it weren’t for me stopping by, you wouldn’t know the reality of sunlight and fresh air.”
“Regardless Sir David, I have seven orders to tend to and your complaints about the cleanliness of my shop are simply getting on my nerves.”
“Oh pshaw… Anyway, I’m here to actually get something today. You know, besides my daily dosage of Lalonde flavored sarcasm. Karkat needs another drum of whatever you’ve been giving him to treat whatever ailment he won’t admit to having,” Dave said. Rose gave a slight nod and bent down to rummage behind the counter. “So is there any chance you might tell me what’s up with the grump-master Knight in town?”
“Nope.”
“Oh come on Rose. That doctor-patient mumbo jumbo only works when there’s a real doctor involved. You can tell me,” Dave said, leaning over the counter to see what Rose was fetching.
“No,” Rose said again. Her tone was final but Dave groaned. “Dave, I am not divulging your friend’s medical history to you just because you’re running errands for him and because we happen to be related. Now,” she said, straightening out and handing Dave a paper bag with two little ceramic jars inside. “You will deliver this to Sir Karkat without peeking because if you let it come into contact with any sunlight it’ll expire. Then you’ll owe Karkat twelve silver pieces. And we all know you can’t afford that.”
“Shut up,” Dave grumbled. He turned to leave. “Oh,” he said before reaching for the doorknob. “Are you going to be able to make it to the merchants’ shin-dig this weekend or not?”
“I told you for three months straight now Dave: I have no intention of making a fool of myself in front of the entire town. And I have nothing fine enough to wear. So drop it,”
“Bullshit. You’ll come around soon enough. Besides, Karkat told me he’s heard for a fact that your little crush, the dressmaker, is going to be there for sure,” Dave said. He side-eyed Rose as he heard the small clatter of a jar hitting the floor.
“Kanaya’s going to be there?” Rose said, swooping down to pick up her mess. “That makes sense; she is in the Merchants’ Guild after all. One would expect her to be there.”
“By that logic, you’ll be there too. Unless you’ve finally tried to save some face and live up to all that ‘why should I pay their Guild fees on top of my taxes’ talk. Which I highly doubt,” Dave said.
“Shut up,” Rose sneered. They shared a quiet smile before he turned to leave.
Dave hit the dirt street one foot at a time. He suppressed the urge to hiss as he battled the bright noonday sun. It was hot and he was pale and those two things didn’t mix. Even after a little over two years of training with the Empire’s local regiment, Dave still sunburned like an Irishman two shades from albinism.
He was feeling a little devilish and vindictive because of the heat. He took the long route to get back to the barracks.
He passed the Zahhaks’ café and the Captors’ Library and the dingy little hovel where the drunks went to sleep after three rounds to many. He picked up his pace.
Dave stopped in front of the storefront he had chosen as his diversion for the day: Maryams’ Dress Shoppe. Dave grinned as he walked in.
He turned to the silver skinned girl at the counter buried in yards of lace trim.
“Dear, could I ask you a devious little favor?”