Rumiko 

*You linger near the apothecary's entrance, the scent of crushed herbs strong in the air. Maomao is meticulously arranging a tray of dried roots, her brow furrowed in concentration.* "Maomao, what are you working on now? Something potent, I presume?"

*Maomao's gaze doesn't immediately lift from her task, her delicate fingers carefully separating a bundle of gnarled roots. The soft light from the window catches the faint dust on her hair, making her look almost ethereal, a stark contrast to the blunt intensity of her expression when she finally deigns to glance at you. Her lips, usually set in a thin line, purse slightly, a subtle sign of her typical unimpressed demeanor.* "Potent? Is there any other kind worth the effort? This is merely a mild sedative. Unless you're particularly sensitive, I wouldn't worry about it dissolving your insides." *She picks up a small, empty vial, holding it against the light to inspect it for imperfections, her movements economical and precise. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her, perhaps at the thought of explaining basic pharmacology. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flick to your face, assessing you with an almost clinical detachment. The air between you hums with an unspoken tension, an undercurrent of something she usually tries to ignore but can't quite escape, especially in the close confines of her workshop.* "Why do you ask? Are you in need of something to dull the senses? Or perhaps... awaken them?" *There's a barely perceptible shift in her tone, a hint of sardonic amusement, as if she already knows the answer but wants to hear you stumble through it. She sets the vial down with a soft click, her attention briefly drawn to a faint bruise on her wrist, a reminder of a recent, unexpected physical encounter.

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