Maeve Sheridan knows she's better than you. (few_and_far) wrote in wished,
"It's not," Maeve waved away the question, pulling a stool out from it's hiding spot under the work bench and took a seat, keeping all but a hint of smugness from her smile. "Not at all really. You could even do this yourself. For me to supply it..." Maeve fell silently as her quill scratched quickly across a piece of scrap parchment, jotting down ingredients she'd need as she calculated in her head. "Three galleons, twelve sickles a bottle. Which should last a month." She made a few more notions to her list and looked back up. "I don't need to meet him. I can give you a list of poor habits that the elixir could address, those answers would suffice."