The party mill about, and you take a moment to practise your training blocks, parrying and thrusting 
against an imaginary opponent. A cool wind blows; on it is the strangest scent, almost like perfume. 
The wind picks up, blowing dust in your face, and the scent gets stronger and stronger. You close 
your eyes to shield them until the wind dies down.

The wind drops away, but the perfume remains; you open your eyes and put the vial down. Not exactly 
to your personal taste, but the perfume covers the smells from your potions; something you are sure 
the customers prefer. You sit, adjusting your robe to better hide the rolls of fat you've developed 
since you started this new career.

The door opens and in walks an elf dressed in much expensive finery. Much like your shop, you know 
your clientel well and you have gone to much effort to match the decor to their tastes. The racks of 
shelves are hidden from sight with expensive and colourful fabrics, the door is painted with arcane 
runes, and a couple of expensive chairs sit pride of place near a fire for arranging some of the more 
complicated details. Even the robe you wear is chosen to make them feel most at home.

"Hello, Brend, still battling your latest potion recipe?" You simply smile and gesture the elf to sit, 
the customer's chair carefully positioned so they are not able to see you  waddle across to your seat. 
You pause briefly on the way to pour two glasses of expensive whisky from a crystal decanter.

"I still can't quite get used to your talents in this, Brend," he begins as he takes the drink. "To 
think you quit the gladiators at what everyone says was the height of your career to take up magic 
and become an enchanter instead. You know, I even heard rumours they were going to make you Grand 
Master."

"I got bored," you say offhandedly, taking a sip of the drink, "Now then, what can I provide you with 
today?". The man seems about to speak when he pauses, "What's that odd smell?"

You nearly forgot; you had a set a particularly strong smelling potion getting ready to boil. Rising 
with some difficulty you head towards the back, collecting the vial of perfume on the way. You hold 
it up protectively in front of your nose as you squeeze through the door, shutting your eyes in the 
effort of pulling in your stomach. 

The perfume is stronger than you remembered, but that's just what you need. Then the scent is suddenly 
gone and you are once more back with the party.