[ It's a noncommital noise as Noctis takes another moment to consider it, eyeing the empty brackets above the shop where a sign should be. ]
It'll be more suspicious if he asks and we refuse. Fake names are simpler. I'll be Lucian, and you can be... Alfred.
[ With no more fanfare than this, Noctis takes a deep breath and pushes through the front door of the jeweler's.
The interior of the shop is poorly lit, with a fine layer of dust on most of the cabinetry that tells him the frontside of this place sees little legitimate use. What jewelry is hung on the racks and in the display cases looks cheap to his eye, fake gemstones and lesser metals—nothing so valuable that it'd be a great loss if the drunks stumbling in from next door started swinging fists into the glass.
And maybe they have—though the floor has obviously been swept, there's still a telltale crunch of leftover something under his boots as he passes a little too close to a shelf by the entry. ]
Mr. Gretoris?
[ He feels like the dust itself shudders at the disturbance of his voice, but it's only the dust. Not so much as a telling creak or an answering greeting from anywhere else in the shop. There's a narrow door in the far corner cracked just enough to reveal a set of stairs behind it.
no subject
[ It's a noncommital noise as Noctis takes another moment to consider it, eyeing the empty brackets above the shop where a sign should be. ]
It'll be more suspicious if he asks and we refuse. Fake names are simpler. I'll be Lucian, and you can be... Alfred.
[ With no more fanfare than this, Noctis takes a deep breath and pushes through the front door of the jeweler's.
The interior of the shop is poorly lit, with a fine layer of dust on most of the cabinetry that tells him the frontside of this place sees little legitimate use. What jewelry is hung on the racks and in the display cases looks cheap to his eye, fake gemstones and lesser metals—nothing so valuable that it'd be a great loss if the drunks stumbling in from next door started swinging fists into the glass.
And maybe they have—though the floor has obviously been swept, there's still a telltale crunch of leftover something under his boots as he passes a little too close to a shelf by the entry. ]
Mr. Gretoris?
[ He feels like the dust itself shudders at the disturbance of his voice, but it's only the dust. Not so much as a telling creak or an answering greeting from anywhere else in the shop. There's a narrow door in the far corner cracked just enough to reveal a set of stairs behind it.
He glances at Alucard. ]
Maybe we should just... go upstairs?