Noble was drinking a hot chocolate with brandy in it, having given up on productivity for the evening. He was reading an academic article on different antidote-brewing methods, even though he didn't expect to change anything about the way he brewed potions. All this was to say that he was bored, and so when Ford walked into the parlor Noble tucked the magazine away, secretly hoping for conversation.

"I have a bit left," Noble admitted, no more enthusiastic than Ford was. He was going to have to sell something expensive to be able to cover it — he could write to his more wealthy clients, and see if any of them were in need of a beauty potion or other nonsense. (This was why the idea he'd been kicking around was so bad — he wasn't sure he could afford it.)

It seemed odd for Ford to be like this, with the whole tone, although there were plenty of reasons for him to be. (The finances, the wedding, whatever else it was Ford did with his time.) Noble raised his eyebrows at his brother.

---