"Your son?" The stout woman looked up from her work, peering at the pair in front of her over her half-moon spectacles.
"Yes, I thought surely you could find a use for a stapling young lad like my boy here." The farmer man said with a frail smile, his hand resting on his young son's shoulder. The man's eyes were pleading, his whole body speaking volumes of his nerves.
Letting the fine quill trail over her lips, the alchemist looked at the scared young man, to the nervous father and then up and down the young man's body. "Yes
I suppose I could find a use for him." The scratching of quill to paper started again and the farmer relaxed with a tense sigh. "As spare parts
" The man tensed up again.
"Spare parts?" He squeaked, his hand gripping his son's shoulder.
yes, I have little other use for him." She commented, looking up again with a sigh to speak slowly as if this had been very obvious. "What extra hands I require I simply summon, imps and suchlike are very hand