10-02-2013, 09:51 PM
Tucked away on a small side street a few blocks from the pawn shop was a cramped and dusty store, fragrant with the vanilla-and-hay perfume of ancient books with an odd metallic undertone. The library hush was broken only by riffling pages and the soft mutter of the old man at the counter as he squinted through a jeweler's loupe at the shining disks in front of him. He looked as if the aura of the tiny store had seeped into his skin, or perhaps his own dry and dusty personality had shaped the store into a place that seemed out of synch with the rest of the world, as if it belonged to another time.
On the other side of the counter stood another much younger man, waiting with a bemused, patient expression. Despite his youth he seemed even more dislocated in time than the store, for he wore an immaculate frock coat and vest with none of the self-consciousness of the usual neo-Victorian gentleman. Everything about him seemed to be some shade of golden brown, from the neatly-polished shoes to the intricately embroidered silk vest. Even his hair gleamed golden brown in the few tenacious rays of sunlight that filtered through the grime on the windows. He stood like a statue, watching the old man inspect a few coins on the counter.
"Where did you get these?" The man behind the counter said as he finally looked up. "Rare to find coins in this condition that aren't in storage boxes or already registered."
"I have more... my father kept them all in an old cash box," supplied the younger man with a charming smile. "I wasn't aware they were particularly valuable until I took some to the bank... they sent me here."
The numismatist eyed the other man-- hardly more than a boy in his opinion-- and adjusted his glasses. "Fortunately for you, I haven't heard of any collections going missing lately. I'll buy these from you now, and if the others are the same quality, I'll sell them for you on consignment. Obviously I don't keep enough cash on hand to buy too many at once."
"Agreed." The young man smiled and offered a slender aristocratic hand. The store keeper shook it perfunctorily and then rummaged out a contract for the consignment. The younger man filled out the papers and handed them back in exchange for the money for the first batch of coins. "I'll bring the others by later today?"
"That'll be fine, yes, Mr..." The old man frowned at the paper, then removed the loupe from his eye to read the elegant chirography on the contract. "Mr. Winters. I'll be here 'til five."
"I'll return shortly, then." Winters raised his hand to a nonexistent hat brim in salute, and then stepped out into the afternoon light. He glanced up at the sky and reached into his vest pocket to pull out... nothing. Alarmed, he began patting other pockets, and then strode off down the street with a concerned expression.
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