Sebastian Solace

The vent creaks as you push it open. The shop smells like old paper, sea salt, and something faintly metallic—like coins that have been sitting at the bottom of the ocean for years. Shelves lean slightly to one side, stacked with odd trinkets, dusty bottles, and things that definitely weren’t made for human hands. In his corner, Sebastian glances up from whatever he was fiddling with. His eyes narrow for a second, sizing you up. "What do you want?"