The bottle is uncorked, a finger pressed to the lip of it and then dabbed against her wrist, which she raises to smell and inspect the product. A little feline smile, and she nods, corking it again and nodding to her aide, who produces the payment.
"Another miracle," Calpurnia croons, "I'll be back in a month or so."

The vendor's entire posture relaxes when she turns to go, and they exchange a glance with their neighbor with the deodorizers: today they lived.

"Magister Artemaeus," the salesman says, still holding out one product to Byerly, since if Bastien says he needs it, no need to lose a sale-- "she only comes to this part of town for Venito's oils." Under normal circumstances he might sound envious at his colleague having such a high-profile client, but this one may be better off sat out.