#talkinggg

He was not defeated, though, and had withstood Magnus’ teasing laughter at the state of him. After a shower and a change, he went back out, determined to see this through. 

Taking a centering breath, he pushes open the door to the small shop and sweat immediately breaks out at his hairline. The weather outside is warm, but inside it’s so sweltering he loses his breath. The shop smells very strongly of incense, and what might be overripe fruit, and is dark. The windows are hung with heavy curtains, the only light coming from silk shaded lamps and what shines through the grime on the door’s window. 

At the counter toward the back, a stooped figure looks up slowly, as if unused to movement. “What do you want?” the old woman croaks, a billow of cigar smoke following the words out of her mouth. 

Alec approaches, trying for a smile. “I’m here to pick up an order?” he offers, and she glares at him. The woman is at least one thousand years old, covered in shawls and wrinkles in equal measure, gnarled fingers tapping at the wood of the counter. Her eyes are magnified by strong glasses and her hair is in a long gray braid down her back. 

“Don’t deal with Shadowhunters,” she grunts, blowing smoke in his face. 

Alec resists the urge to cough, and says, “It’s not for me. It’s for Magnus Bane.” 

The wrinkles of her forehead raise, as if somewhere in there an eyebrow has ticked up, but then her expression shutters once again. “Magnus Bane doesn’t deal with Shadowhunters.” 

“He deals with me. I’m Alec, his boyfriend. And I’m here to pick up his order. I have it written down, if you like,” he says, holding out the piece of paper, but she only scoffs and bats his hand away. 

“I know what the order is,” she observes him for a moment longer, angrily, and then finally says, “It’s in the back. Wait here. Don’t touch anything.” 

She shuffles away, moving like a fossil come to life, her legs calcified by age. Alec stands obediently, looking around at the displays but not touching. He waits. And he waits. And he checks his watch. And he waits some more. He texts Magnus, but gets no reply. And waits a little longer. 

Finally, after an hour, when Alec’s patience is long gone, there’s more shuffling footsteps and she returns with a parcel wrapped in brown paper. 

“Here, Shadowhunter,” she says, handing it over. “Tell Magnus to come and see me, I’m not some old woman he can pass off on his boyfriend like dirty laundry.”