Tucked into a tiny and unfriendly corner of the city, away from the noise of the marketplace, there was a squat, low-slung shack tucked in an alley; its sign, dangling above the cracked cobblestone street, was worn with age and the elements. It read, "Apotheker Johann" - and beneath it, a small sign stood by the door. "Liebestränke, Zwei für eine." Inside, through a door that creaked on its hinges, the long and narrow interior was lit by a perilously hanging chandelier that cast an insufficient light; the walls seemed to slouch inward, the many overburdened shelves threatening to topple onto the visitor, a dark and crowded huddle of miscellania from pickled eyes to dried leaves to simple phials of luminous fluid... 
A hunched and hooded figure stood wiping down the counter at the far side of the alley-come-shop, unidentifiable in the gloom.