It was kind of disconcerting how little couriers listened to objections, entirely focused on getting themselves rid of their delivery and on to the next one. Iestyn was left holding a heavy wooden box, watching helplessly as the van drove away.
He carried it in and put it on the sofa since there was no room on the counter, and cautiously opened the box. "Whiskey," he said, peering inside. "A like, barrel decanter thing. And..." He lifted the smaller box and sniffed it, then wrinkled his nose. "Smells like tobacco. What is it?"