#theron athanasios

theronathansios:

Theron raised a questioning eyebrow at the young man who all but stumbled over the threshold in his embarrassment.  The man was young and apparently had a penchant for including a great deal of black leather in his wardrobe.  Not the usual type of customer he dealt with, but in all fairness New Orleans thrived on being wholly unusual so perhaps it wasn’t as surprising as it seemed.  The antiques dealer held up a finger to let the young man know that he would be with him in a moment.  

“Alright - thank you very much Signore, until next time,” Theron said in Italian as he jotted down the name and number of the man’s German contact who was likely in possession of the book he was looking for.  He hung up the phone and turned back around to focus on the young man who was standing near a shelf, awkwardly perusing the items.

“Sorry about that,” Theron apologized, pinching the bridge of his nose to help ward off the headache building there.  “It’s been a - trying day.  You said you were looking at one of the window pieces, yes?”

Mathis’ studded black leather jacket was a statement piece for sure - and the statement it made was ‘almost definitely local.’ No one but someone well-accustomed to this climate could possibly be comfortable in a such a heavy attire in summer. It appeared Theron’s visitor was even wearing gloves, though the more the antiques dealer observed him, the sooner he’d realize the young man was wearing just one glove, not two. In spite of his odd outfit, Mathis nodded quickly when Theron indicated that he would be just a moment longer and politely busied himself elsewhere. He wandered slowly around the store feigning interest in this piece or that only to soon find himself well and truly engrossed.

Theron’s apology registered only distantly. Tearing his focus away from an exquisite bronze sculpture, the witch blinked owlishly at the shop owner before remembering the reason for his visit, “Oh- Yes. It was… It’s a ring, actually. I think there’s only one in the window but if you have others like it maybe I could see them, too..?” He took a few steps in the direction of the display but waited for Theron to take the lead. To his credit, he seemed to have some semblance of manners. He hadn’t touched anything since walking in the door, and if he realized he was the reason for the other’s growing headache, he didn’t draw attention to it.

Still. Why he wanted to see yet another ring when he was already wearing five (that could be seen) was anyone’s guess. He also had at least two bracelets and a necklace. Apparently no one had ever told him less was more.

theronathansios:

Theron’s lip curled in distaste.

He’d just finished shooing out some woman who’d come into his store with the intent to sell off her moldering brass statuettes to him.  He’d nastily shoved the box back across the counter at them, nearly upending the contents onto the floor as he gave her directions to the nearest pawn shop.  Most people familiar with the Quarter by now knew better than to come to him with such mediocre products, but there was the odd bird here and there who thought that they could outwit him and pawn off their junk to the antique dealer.

Huffing in disgust again after making sure the woman had left the store with only the items she’d brought with her he turned his back to the door to the spread of papers lining the counter.  One of his regular clients had requested he seek out a particularly rare book and it was proving to be a more difficult task than he’d first anticipated - but if it was one thing Theron loved, it was a challenge.  His best lead thus far was waiting on hold, having been put there by the junk-woman’s rude intrusion, and Theron quickly returned his attention to the call, apologizing in flawless Italian to the man on the other line.  

It was proving a fruitful exchange - the elderly gentleman, a bibliophile from Assisi excitedly told him that while he himself did not possess the tome, he knew precisely who to ask for it.  Theron’s joy at the revelation was short-lived however, when he heard his shop door open again and he sighed.

“Scusa, un momento per favore, Signore,” he apologized again.  Thankfully his Italian contact was an amiable sort and was more than happy to wait on hold again until Theron’s business was done.  The former hunter school his face back into a neutral expression as he turned to greet the newcomer.  “Hello.  Is there anything in particular that I can help you with this evening?”

About half a block from Athanasios Antiques, Mathis had crossed paths with a rather indignant-looking woman ferrying an only half-closed box of trinkets. The cache was tucked possessively under one of her arms, a bit like a football, and the witch might’ve mentioned that she was about to lose something out of it had it not been for her brisk pace and sour expression. So instead of opening his mouth, he simply got out of her way, arriving at his destination about a minute after nearly being bowled over on the sidewalk. He pushed open the door only to grimace as he realized he was interrupting.

Initially, he avoided eye contact with the man on the phone in an effort to indicate that he was in no hurry, but Theron extricated himself (albeit temporarily) from the call to address him nevertheless. Acting almost as though he’d been caught some place he shouldn’t be, an apologetic smile flickered across the Savoie’s face. Stepping further into the store, he explained, “I was hoping to look at some jewelry - um, there’s actually been a particular piece in the window for the past couple weeks now - but it can wait till you’re finished. I’ve never been in before-” As though that much wasn’t perfectly obvious. “-I’ll just look around till you’re finished.”