Bussines is Bussines I 'uppose.

[tequila]

Tequila has a good nose. Sometimes, on a good day, the boy was able to detect the traces of what someone had only just eaten - the very crust of bread once on their hands. The moment a scent touches his nose, his mind locks. Every other smell drifting and circling the air became no more, like nothingness because every ounce of his being is focused on that smell. Tequila can't further explain what drew him towards the merchant's cart, but he certainly notices the lack of a steed or even a bull carrying the cargo. Perhaps this merchant had the strength of ten men, rippled. He says nothing to the male's sarcastic reply, raising his head when he recognised the sound of footsteps coming towards him. The boy presses his lips gently together, twirling his fingers about his bobbed hair as he tried to figure out who this person happened to be. A woman, most likely, but the feminine grace which enshrouded the woman's very stride. Cleopatra. Tequila offers only a weak smile at her words towards the man being handsome. He wouldn't know and he never really cared. From experimentation, the adolescent had come to learn that creatures liked to be complimented, and that people liked to see a bit of cheekiness.

He doesn't think much about his blindness. He tends to keep his bandages as hidden as possible, only visible through unfortunate partings of his hair or when the wind blew at his face. When he was younger someone had told him that his eyes looked unsightly and bandages looked only...unsettling, as if he had been injured. He took the liberty to take some care about his appearance, having done it so many times and neatly trimming his hair so often that the very pattern was a simple routine. He felt at ease falling into line, following this tradition and mapping his own face that he never felt confused. Systematic, machine-like. It was natural to him, ingrained into his very being. He worked so well without his eyes that he never really sought the need to tell others that he couldn't see. It was like asking for others to excuse him for his weakness, a weakness that hardly bothered him unless someone wanted him to choose one colour versus another.

"Ah, you're funny. How much for just one bottle?"