Many Menaces at the Marketplace

Author’s Note: Hi, and welcome to Jackass-

Anyway, warning for a singular act of violence! Someone gets punched! Woah!

I’m the owner of Elwood, Keone, and Mychelle, but the lovely Hidden owns Virgil. I just get to write about him sometimes.

This is my celebratory fic because I’ve finally processed the win in question, so I hope it’s enjoyable for everyone involved! Thank you so much for the support.

Elwood was not a good actor.

His main talent was maintaining either a neutral or sociable facade, but even those cracked under intense scrutiny. Some would look at his salesman persona and think that he was good at portraying people who weren’t himself; this, however, ignored the fact that the elf was very good at faking things to survive.

Devotion, sadism, respect… he was very good at imitation when it benefited him.

Case in point: let’s observe his work routine.

Keone Peregrine was one of his most dedicated customers. They came to him often, even though his location in the woods clearly made them uneasy. Their arrangement was simple; Keone filled his pockets with money and Elwood gave them peace of mind in a bottle. The first day they met, the young first year whispered about how debilitating their fear of the ocean was. By the time they crossed paths again, the burgeoning chemist had devised a suitable aid for their problem.

A more morally superior person would abhor the idea of profiting off of someone’s phobia. Elwood tried not to let his occasional guilt over it paralyze his decisions. Good money was nothing to sneeze at.

“Salutations, Mx. Peregrine.” Elwood greeted them easily, a pretty smile adorning his face. “It must have been an age since you graced me with your presence! Do you require a replenished stock of ‘ocean in a bottle’?”

Keone’s gaze was nervous and their body tense, but nary a hint of suspicion lurked within them. “Ah, um, I’m good. Do you have anything nice?”

“What is your personal definition of ‘nice’, sir? I live to be of use to you in providing a new service.” Elwood replied automatically. It was simple enough to switch scripts depending on the situation.

They worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “I heard you s-sell dreams.”

He waited patiently for elaboration before it dawned on him that more information would not be forthcoming. “Those rumors are certainly correct, though such an assessment relies entirely on subjective perspective. Does a particular variety speak to you? Most tend to indulge in the sensual kind.” Elwood prompted.

“S-S-Sensual?!?” They spluttered. “No! I just want to dream of a nice vacation.”

Without sparing the individual bottles a glance, Elwood snatched the right one up out of pure muscle memory. “The price will remain consistent. Normally, I would charge more for this particular brand, but...” He trailed off before flashing them a playful and absolutely insincere wink. “I am quite certain you would be amenable to a customer discount.”

Keone startled, a flush spreading across their cheeks. “O-Oh. Oh! Yeah, that’s, uh, totally fine.” They smiled back bashfully. “Thank you, Mr. Silverstone.”

Elwood tilted his head towards them. “The pleasure is all mine, Mx. Peregrine. I can assure you on that front.”

People really are easy. He thought to himself, not in the least bit satisfied by his own actions. ''Look at them. They’re positively beaming at the chance to pay the same price they always do, and all because I merely adjusted the level of displayed investment. All it takes is a wink. How troublesome.''

Gold and bottle exchanged hands. Keone brushed fingers with him more than was necessary. Elwood made a concentrated effort not to flinch away. “Until next time, Mx. Peregrine?” He said, ignoring the revulsion in favor of appearing cordially distant. The younger teen deflated.

“Yeah… Until next time…” They sighed and walked away.

The next few customers flew by in a rush. The denizens of the world seemed determined to empty his stock of poison. In between patrons, Elwood took note of which ones he had ran out of, checked that list against the ingredients he still owned, and began work on his testing schedule. He’d have to find a way to make it up to Virgil-

His pen paused. Heat blossomed in his cheeks. What on earth am I thinking? Elwood lamented the sudden irrational thought. ''There is absolutely no need to do anything of the sort. He participates in that unsavory process of my work willingly.''

But wouldn’t you like to make it up to him?

Immediately, Elwood hushed that insubordinate part of his mind. It was all too easy to misconstrue acts of sentiment. What if Virgil came to expect those things as an incentive to aid him? What then? Where would the line be drawn, and would he even want to draw it?

… No.He admitted to himself. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Hi, Elwood.” Another regular greeted him.

“Salutations, Ms. Wróżka.” Elwood replied back, pushing his crisis away for another day. “What are you in need of today?” He continued, unaware of the pink in his cheeks.

Mychelle Wróżka was yet another person he was skilled at taking advantage of. She had an unfortunate infatuation that he was the subject of, a fact that Elwood used to exploit her out of money time and time again. He didn’t spare a thought to the ethical implications of his actions, and why would he? She was the one who thought his potions were the key to her problems. What she did with them wasn’t, in his eyes, his responsibility.

But therein lies the rub. In Elwood’s eyes, his greeting was normal. In hers, the flush of his cheeks was directly correlated to her presence. She was over the moon.

Mychelle twirled a lock of hair around her index finger. “I’d like my usual please.” She answered his inquiry in a coy manner. Or so she thought. Personally, he thought she looked vaguely feverish.

The bottle he procured held a glittery pink liquid, which accurately reflected the salacious nature of the product. “Will that be all?” As he said this, he licked his lips; they were feeling rather dry and he didn’t have any chapstick.

She turned a brilliant shade of red. “Y-Yes.” She paid him before promptly fleeing, clutching the bottle to the point where her knuckles turned white.

Elwood gazed after her retreating form without a lick of comprehension. I wonder if that really is as enjoyable as people think it is.

His last customer for the day, in contrast, resembled a mountain more than a person. Elwood maintained his polished smile. “Salutations. What do you require today? I have many wares that one may select if they so choose.”

“You’re a cheat, Elwood Silverstone. You and the whole damn business you work for.” Their voice sounded like stones grinding together.

His grin never wavered. “I am sorry to disappoint you, sir. That would never be my intention.” With a press of a button, his stall collapsed back into a briefcase. “However, I am afraid that I must depart from your presence if you are not a customer. A good day to you, sir.”

Elwood ended up on the ground before his brain registered what hit him. Or, more precisely, who. It would be a narrative disservice to classify the action as a punch; it was more comparable to being hit in the face with a carefully aimed sledgehammer.

“Give me your fucking money.” The being demanded.

He blinked up at them, more bewildered by the fact that he wasn’t concussed than by the threat in itself. “I cannot.” He said mildly. “Might I interest you in an alternate form of payment? I have some high quality mushrooms-”

They lumbered over, looming like it was in their job description. They did not reply, but the intent was obvious. Give up the money or die.

Elwood smiled.

“I won’t ask again.” They warned, raising a massive fist. He silently grinned up at the hand, bracing himself for the next blow.

It never came.

“Hey!” Mychelle stormed back into view, looking like a vengeful Fury ascending from hell. “Buzz off! I’ll call the police, see if I won’t!”

''‘I’ll call the police’? As if that would be effective-''

The being turned and stumbled away, trembling all the while. They both walked them leave.

“Are you alright, Elwood?” She fretted, extending a hand for him to take. Tentatively, he pulled himself up with her help.

“I appreciate the assistance, but I would not call it necessary. Regardless, thank you.”

She blushed once more. “It’s the least I could do. I was just around. Um, speaking of that actually…” She fidgeted, falling silent.

Elwood valiantly tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his cheek. “Yes?”

“There’s a special event at a cafe I love in BookEnd, and… well, this might sound awkward, but I was wondering if you’d like to come with me. As a date.”

Those words were the first ever to dim his salesman smile. “As a what.”

Her eyes widened with horror. “You don’t have to say yes! I just…” Mychelle paused. “I really like you. Don’t you feel the same way? This… connection isn’t just one-sided! I know it! Don’t you feel it?”

For once, Elwood Silverstone froze. He had a sinking feeling that he was about to lose a customer. “I…”

A flutter of wings was the only warning he got before two arms wrapped their way around his sides; this was concurrent to the sensation of a chin digging into his shoulder. “Sorry. Guess I’m late to this little party, but Woody’s not exactly on the market.”

“Why do you convey contrition with your words if you cannot even feign it properly?” Elwood held himself stiffly, ignorant to how the red in his face brought out the blue and purple even more. Trust Virgil to find him after a long day of work without being asked. “Your impunity renders me speechless.” Even through this, he continued to grin, but it was quickly becoming more and more strained.

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Virgil shot back. He couldn’t bear to look at the angel, but there was no doubt in Elwood’s mind that he was grinning. “Who’s this?”

“Ms. Mychelle Wróżka.” Elwood said dutifully. “She purchases products from me regularly.”

His hold became just a little tighter. “Ah, okay!” He said with a chuckle. “Well, have a nice day, Mychelle.” It was an empty plaintive, and everyone there knew it.

Her face went through a range of complicated emotions, beginning at outrage and ending at utter dismay. “... You too. Sorry to bother you guys.” Without waiting for a reply, the embarrassed girl beat a tactical retreat.

The instant she disappeared between the trees, Virgil whirled Elwood around to face him. “What happened?” There was an odd quality to his voice, but Elwood was too jaded to see it as concern on Virgil’s part, especially when the angel in question was busy prodding the bruise without any sort of hesitation. “Does that hurt?”

A particularly rough press elicited a groan of discomfort from his throat. “It does in fact pain me, and it would be very much appreciated if you would cease in your tactless ministrations, but it is hardly agonizing. I will be fine.”

“But you’re not smiling anymore.” Virgil peered into his eyes with an unusual amount of intensity. “Are you sure?”

The words escaped him before he could stop them. “Why would I smile at you so? They are not real.”

Virgil looked stunned. Elwood felt much the same way. You are a fool. He chided himself. What was the use in saying such a thing to him? Even if they were… even if…

But wouldn’t you like to make it up to him?

His cheeks burned in the non-lethal way as something else pressed against the bruise. “There.” His… well. His significant other sounded pleased with himself. “Kiss from an angel!”

Elwood scoffed and tried to pretend like the gesture meant nothing at all.

Later on, after a few days had passed, Elwood gawked at his reflection in the mirror, perplexed beyond belief. Weird brown spots lingered where the bruise had been, a cluster that stood out against lighter skin. How strange.

The treacherous part of him piped up once more. Did you know that they say freckles are caused by angel kisses?

He immediately resolved to stop eating his precious mushrooms before dinner. These sentimental feelings really were not worth it. Not at all.