Bella watched them leave, faintly bemused. Following weird smells? Not twins, but partners? Nameless too, they never bothered to introduce themselves. As for flavor, it was daylight, that ruled out some of the Under dwellers, plus they walked the streets, could look normal, and that comment about their sense of smell. Something animalistic then, maybe another shifter type. There were so blasted many of them, and it seemed like more got crammed into their communities as they slipped south for safer... assumedly safer pastures anyways, considering her current... injured company in the back room.
Shaking her head, she went up and flipped the sign to 'with a client, back soon', and locked the door. She wasn't making it to the urgent meeting, hopefully one of the other not so Under, under weirdos would be buy for tea and gossip later and fill her in. She took a minute or two to shove the store phone in her pocket, and grab some basic healing components, including a blanket poppet. Not that she thought he'd freely give over hair or anything useful for this....or even that he would accept a blessing from one such as her. Still he was here, and she was a firm believer in listening to the warnings that had been given to her.
"Now just what am I supposed to do with you cherie?" she asked, as she stepped into the back, tossing things on the worktable, and glancing around looking for the injured man.
Belle sighed, in her head, and turned to the 'not twins', then spoke, "I am going to assume Nym mentioned heading Under because well, we are all in the 'know', at least where as that is concerned. What she, and they holding the meeting seem to forget is that I run a business. With hours, hours that I need to BE HERE FOR," those words were grouched out, though not in anyway at the two in front of her. Taking another long breath and holding it she looked them over.
"Though I do see why you get called twins, you act in unison, and you look similar. That is enough to get classified as twins. And irrelevant to the matters at hand, yes, I am Belle Fontenot, owner of 'Just an Old Cup'. Yes, I know about the Under, but right now we aren't there. We are at my shop...so...." She then repeated her previous greeting, "are you looking for tea, something old but new to you for your homes,” she gestured at the beautifully restored antiques scattered about the store, including at the mismatched tables that were available for seating for customers, “or was it a reading? I have a standing reading scheduled soon, but I could do a short question and answer session for you if either of you would like. And you have apparently a meeting to get too."
The last was added like an afterthought, as if she had only remembered it at the end there.
Belle shook her head hard, annoying talent, hitting like that, now of all times. She sighed, heavily enough that the two strangers who followed the.... man... inside could have heard her if they had been deaf. Which she completely doubted, true deaf were rare, when things could be healed, or tech could be added to compensate, or overcompensate as the case may be. Opening her mouth, she blinked, and then pointed to a doorway with a sign over it that stated ‘employee’s only’.
“Holy hell dude, you look like shit. Go on back and clean up, and I’ll come see about your requested service once I’m done with the other customers in here. You need time to wash up and get your breath. I’d ask what happened, but I’m assuming the other guy looks much worse.”
She turned to the two, hoping the man just followed her request, and smiled, “Welcome to ‘Just an Old Cup’, are you looking for tea, something old but new to you for your homes,” she gestured at the beautifully restored antiques scattered about the store, including at the mismatched tables that were available for seating for customers, “or was it a reading? I have a standing reading scheduled soon, but I could do a short question and answer session for you if either of you would like.”
She reached over and patted a deck sitting on the shelf behind the counter. Picking up the first card she glanced at it, and then set it back down somehow managing to knock over a vase with flowers in it. The thing was battered and chipped, but fortunately didn’t chip more as it clashed to the surface of the counter top. With a quiet muttering in Cajun, she reached for some towels and began to clean up her mess.