[tl;dr - mick is tanning the hide of a young cow. the process is disgusting, both visually and in scent. he plans on using the leather for crafting, and is open to commissions.]

[cw: descriptions of internal organs, blood, bodily fluids, gagging]

Two steel buckets, beaten up and caked in rust. They were planted in the grainy earth beneath the shade of a canopy tent, each with a rag hanging over the rim. From these buckets emitted an unforgivably abominable odour, a smell so offensive that it was capable of churning one's stomach. These two ingredients were crushed brain and pulverised liver, and they were key ingredients in the process of tanning leather. And though Mick found himself retching from time to time, especially when he soaked the rags in the buckets' vile contents, and he knew very well that the final product was worth the strife.

The skin of a young cow was stretched on a wooden rack over an open flame. It was positioned so that it absorbed the thick smoke, taking in chemical components that aided the tanning process. The cow in question couldn't have been older than five months, and thus its leather would come to be frail and weak; that is, until boiled fat was smeared across the hide, adding a little bit of volume to the membrane. The addition of brain and liver would only serve to strengthen the material even further.

Time was the final step in the process. The flame had been going for forty-five minutes or so by this point, and more than enough bodily fluids were slathered across the cowhide. Given the curved roof of the tent, a fair amount of smoke accumulated within the top, the fumes enriching the tissue as the minutes passed.

Mick himself stood atop a worktable, the same one on which he devised his blade-concealing bracer. The little tool proved its worth in slaying the young animal earlier on in the day. The creature did put up a bit of a fight, and Mick winced even now as he spread salt on the skin.

It was unknown what the leather would be used for. Perhaps he could sell it as a trade commodity, or fashion it into another weapon of sorts. 

An ear twitches as the tom picks up on the sound of encroaching footfalls. The noise almost resembled clicking, in a way. He halted his work, and his attention to his craft was severed, for Mick now concerned himself over who would willingly subject themselves to this vile odour - well, who else would do so. The feline's answer came rather quickly, because when he pivoted around and moved to the table's edge, he saw that Alwaysdead was already there. "Mother of all-" he gasped aloud, having not expected someone to be there. Her silence only added to his apprehension - not that she could help it - as anyone else would have already announced their presence.

Taking half a moment to collect himself, the tabby exhales from the bottom of his throat before leaping from his workstation. Landing a cat's length away from the woman, he briefly scans the three-legged creature's features before offering a more formal greeting. "Salutations," he remarks respectfully, dipping his noggin in a nod. Alwaysdead deserved credit for taking an interest in what he had to offer. "There's confusion in your eyes, sweetie," the tabby went on, "and I don't blame you. What I'm doing is tanning a hide, turning it into leather, so I can use it to make some sort'a armour or weapon." That, or sell it outright. If her curiosity persisted, chances are that he would try to peddle it to her.