Wolfgang looks a little taken aback. They get a lot of compliments on their appearance, so much that they tend to blur together, and it's easy to get bored of being told how hot you are when about ninety percent of the time there's an obvious ulterior motive. Nobody has ever noticed that Wolfgang makes their own perfume.
“I... thank you. I just, um, I use different oils. Sometimes mix them. You put one or two drops, um...” Wolfgang holds up their hand, touches two fingers to the inside of their wrist. “Here, and —” They tap those same fingers on their neck, where their pulse is. “Here.”