Miguel gave a philosophical, one-shouldered shrug. "I figured my opinion on whether or not your butt looked good in something was a moot point since, y'know," he waved vaguely at Luke's everything illustratively. "--so you were owed an extra opinion of the harsh variety as compensation for being robbed of my witty insight."
It took his brain two full seconds of the silence that followed to catch up with his mouth and his expression was frozen in a rictus of horror as he rapidly swung around and hurried past Luke to where the painstakingly re-arranged bathbomb display had been set into a tower of small cellophane-wrapped balls, brightly colored and resembling a patisserie display of macarons. A wide, shallow bowl filled with slightly steaming water was set on a small table in front of the display, a dish of small samples of product set next to it.
The steam seemed to intensify as Miguel approached, gathering together like a storm cloud in miniature hovering over the surface of the water. There might even have been a small flash of lightning within its depths until Miguel muttered an impatient "oh quit it, you pests". The cloud broke open with a quick banishing movement of his hand, bursting open and spilling out a heady perfume of lavender and bergamot to spread throughout the shop. It dissipated into nearly nothing, leaving behind only its scent and a small puff of smoke that seemed to flit to and fro in orbit just above Miguel’s head.
"Sorry," he steadfastly refused to look at Luke, choosing instead to focus on sorting out the samples by type. A swift flick of his fingers had the now-clear water shifting within the bowl until it was rotating in a slow whirlpool. "Water wisps. They mess with my stuff when they think I've been ignoring them or whatever. Because they’re too sensitive," he snapped at the wisp floating overhead. It seemed to expand with sullen energy until Miguel reached up to poke at it. It brushed against his fingers like an affectionate cat before zipping away to the ceiling beams to hide, giving off every impression of laughing with mischief in its own way.
The exasperated look Miguel shot after the wisp was full of fondness. After a moment that seemed to stretch too long for him to not be self-conscious about on top of everything else, he cleared his throat to break the quiet.
"So," he began, feeling another blush building in his cheeks. Here was the part he still wasn't used to; presenting his work like it was actually worth something more than gifts for family members to soothe their various small aches and pains, some of which weren’t physical complaints. It was still...novel, and not entirely in a pleasant way. "These aren’t really your average run-of-the-mill bathbombs. Obviously," he added, as if it wasn’t. "I usually make these to address...some kind of concern. It’s not a substitute for going to Nene and her fancy degree to get yourself fixed up, but it should...help. With something." He shifted uncomfortably, the embarrassed flush in full force across his face now. "But sometimes with supernatural clients, they're immune to the frailties of the flush we mere mortals must suffer and they just don't want to stink like whoever or whatever they just ate, so...I guess there's run-of-the-mill bathbombs too, if that's what you'd rather saddle yourself with."
He glanced up and gave Luke another tentative smile, forgetting for a moment that he'd accumulated enough karmic mortification in the past ten minutes to haunt him through his next fifteen lives. "False advertising?" he offered with a soft, sheepish laugh. "I promise the light show is just as good, no matter what. If you wanted to see."