Will walked up to the front desk, an old oak desk heavily stained with layer after layer of varnish. The shop seemed to consist of mostly old world furniture, it made the place unique and very intriguing. Will placed a hand on the old wood, feeling a surge run through him as he did, almost electrical, he shook it off.
The owner, Will assumed, sat behind it - a wrinkled old man, somewhat Oriental, with a shock of white hair, he wore spectacles. He was dressed in a very proper looking robes, with a long feather pen that he was using to write in a book, probably a journal of some kind.
"Can I help you?" The old man inquired in a pleasant voice.
Will smiled politely and said.....