canon | pushing daisies

[lots]

You do realize I can't stay all that long, don't you? And that, as a result, your options become limited. I can't exactly be a traveling salesman if I can't travel. I mean, yes, this is all a form of traveling, but you know what point it is that I'm trying to get at.

Comments

[separates]

A traveling salesman? —Those still exist, then, do they?

[lots]

A few, at least. [ In a simultaneously pleased and nostalgic sort of tone: ] We're the last of a dying breed.

[separates]

[ She snorts, but it isn't particularly teasing in tone. It's more — pleasantly amused than anything else. ] Right.

You know, I travel with a bloke that says something a bit similar. You could swap notes. [ Clara leans her chin on her palm, elbow on the table. ]

So, go on, then, salesman — What've you got for me?

[lots]

[ Even before Clara finishes asking, there's a chest occupying the space directly between them.

The facts were these: since leaving the Pie Hole behind, and attempting to do the same with his seemingly misplaced affections for one Olive Snook, Alfredo Aldarisio had not stopped working. Whether it was traveling or pitching his herbal remedies to anyone who would listen, he had not allowed himself a moment's rest akin to the one that had led to his infatuation in the first place. Though it had led to a rather disastrous meltdown a month into his journey, he had since come to find the dosage of homeopathic solutions that would ensure that neither his fear of space nor his heartbreak would catch up to him too quickly.

With a single gesture, Alfredo opens the box, the small compartments all opening up in the manner of a small mechanical exhibit left to its own devices, the small, colorful bottles all decorated with what seem to be lovingly crafted handmade labels. ]

Happiness. That's what I've got. Happiness in a conveniently pocket-sized bottle.

[separates]

Sorry, come again?

[ Clara peers at the box, leaning forward on the edge of her seat to take a look at the display. It's incredible, really. The colors, the labels — it's like something out of a fairytale. With a look in his direction that asks 'can I?', she reaches out to get a closer inspection of what Alfredo has to offer.

Unfortunately for Clara, she doesn't get a sweetly said narrative. Having secrets she never knew about revealed to her recently, it can be said her more recent chapter was closed on a rather sour note. Here, now — with colorful bottles and traveling salesmen, she'll take all the happiness she can get.

The idea makes her laugh quietly. ] This is mad.

What are they really? You can't actually bottle happiness — can you? 'Course, after all the things I've seen..

[lots]

Herbs for every mood — homeopathic mood enhancers, [ he tells her cheerfully. ] I take them, myself, if you want a testimony. I promise I'll be objective. Pamphlet?

[ He speaks with a certain easiness, an utter lack of glibness suggesting that he really does believe in what he's peddling — that his goal isn't to swindle but simply to improve. Even the pamphlet that he offers her — apparently out of nowhere — is brightly colored, more like a greeting card than part of any advertisement. ]

A cure for whatever clouds ail you.

[separates]

[ It's somewhat comedic, this whole bit here. She's admiring the bottles, when suddenly pamphlet! Her eyes widen and she pulls back slightly, hair brushing her cheeks. Her eyes dart from the small book, to his expression, and she can't help but laugh again.

Really. It isn't prodding. In fact, she finds this bloke rather entertaining. Quirky, sort of bizarre like The Doctor. There's no holding back her smile as she flips through what he has to offer her. Curiouser and bloody curiouser. ]

Do this a lot, do you? All flash and pizazz and color — so not without the color. There's got to be a catch. What's all this stuff even made out of? You said homeopathic, yeah? [ She wrinkles her nose, eager to listen. ]

[lots]

[ Alfredo doesn't seem to think of it as prodding, either — on the contrary, he seems happy to talk about the little bottles of theoretical happiness that he's been carting around. And besides, she's a charming girl. ]

You've got to have a little showmanship, but I like to think that these things sell themselves. I just enable them. [ Tugging one of the drawers of the box out a little further, he taps the bottle closest to him. ]

It's all herbology — FDA approved, if you're wondering. A little bit of like curing like, pushing back against things that try to push you.

[separates]

[ Clara takes the bottle he's tapped, bring it close to her face and reading all the tiny, scribbly bits. Her head tilts slightly and she makes a soft 'huh' noise at the back of her throat.

With all this whimsy, a part of her wonders if she'll lose her height and shrink to the floor — okay, maybe she has been spending a bit too much time around that Time Lord of hers. ]

Do you take them? Just curious. Covering all my bases. You know, that whole thing.

And by the way, I haven't caught your name, Salesman. [ After settling back the bottle, she folds her arms playfully. ]

[lots]

I do take them, [ he confesses, with a nod of his head. ] No adverse side effects so far, and I wouldn't sell something to someone else that I wouldn't use myself. As for my name— [ there's another brief pause, this one punctuated by his pointing at the small plaque on top of the box between them ] —it's Alfredo. Alfredo Aldarisio. Apologies for not introducing myself earlier; it was rude of me, I know.

And you are?