Hell or High Water—verse. Set during Chapter 6 (but based on the time I dragged my significant otter to the LUSH store).
"This is the perfect gift idea. Thoughtful, but not sappy. Romantic, but not too presumptuous — like, I was definitely thinking about you naked, but in a sweet and wholesome way—"
"Honestly, I'm surprised you've managed to keep your gift ideas to a PG rating." I finished my breakfast and tossed the paper wrapper into a nearby trash can. The mall Thomas had dragged me to was so upscale I was surprised there wasn't a dress code. As luck would have it, it was still mostly empty, too early for the real shoppers. "I always just assumed your go-to was like… MDMA and lingerie made of electrical tape."
"Romance means different things to different people, Harry," my brother scoffed.
"Clearly."
"Well, what do you usually get her? Ammo?"
"Hey, ammo is an excellent gift—"
"And that's why we're starting small," Thomas advised. "Get her a fuzzy robe and some fancy soap. I know you think it's dumb, but I promise you, she'll like it."
"No, it's a pretty good idea," I admitted with a reluctant sigh. "She's been eyeing that tub in the master bathroom for three weeks, now. And she's getting those stitches out today, so good timing."
"See? Trust me, I'm a professional."
Thomas steered me into a storefront and bumped into me when I stopped to look around. Heavy wooden shelves lined the walls, loaded with rows of bottles and crystals, like a potions shop from the series about that other wizard named Harry. Between the shelves were tables and bins of bright-colored bars of what might have been soap, but could have been candy. Everything was sparkly and the smell was pleasant, though overwhelming.
The clerk was a tall, willowy young woman who conjured up high school memories of Elaine. She drifted between the shelves, neatening vials and humming along to the hipster banjo pop playing on unseen speakers.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked, turning towards us just as Thomas managed to knock over a pyramid of glittery soap spheres on the nearest table.
"... We might be beyond help," I answered, soap rolling around my ankles.
She frowned at Thomas, who was doing his best to reassemble the pile, waved him away and rebuilt it herself. "Are we shopping for ourselves, or for a gift—"
"A gift."
"For—"
"His girlfriend." My brother hooked a thumb at me. "Apparently she likes the smell of sweaty, slightly-burnt nerd?"
The clerk smiled a little, leaned in a bit and inhaled.
"Leather," she gestured vaguely toward my coat. "Cedar smoke, peppermint and artemisia, and… food court cinnamon roll."
"Oh, that's fun." Thomas smacked me on the arm, excitedly. "Do me."
"You smell like someone already did," she grimaced and gestured for me to follow her. I grinned and reached for a shopping basket and we left my brother standing in the middle of the store, sniffing the collar of his shirt.
"I really hope you get commission."
Next: Garden