At a more regulated establishment, there might be an air of waiting in a treatment room for a doctor to arrive - slight anxiety, sterile edges, ominous movement from outside - but here, in this strange apothecary Severus is, for all accounts, trying to get away from, it feels a bit like prison visitation. He should really stop doing this - and after this case, he is he tells himself - but the details were so plainly bizarre that his curiosity's got the better of him.

The metal door opens, rusty creaking hinges more old and full of irked character than foreboding, and he steps inside, keeping a close eye on the man sitting before him. There's something odd about him, and -

- yes. That's some interesting curse work, there, he can practically feel it. Severus frowns, pulling the door closed behind him and judging the air in the room.

It takes him a second to realize only the dog is looking at him.