You hurry down the slope, then past the grand town hall building at the north of the town; the building is not as central as the wide, wooden town gates that open your town out to the rest of the world (apart from the waterways and stubborn cliffs, the only way in or out of town) but it still is an integral part of life here. The shopping district is to the south, a short distance down the neat, stone pathways, showing the change between the modern and comfortable living on this side of the river, and the flats and ancient museum on the other.
Finally you arrive by Cooke’s place, and the tailor-shop which is owned by the female twin tailors, middle-aged and slightly eccentric, with their tight brown curls giving the impression of spikes or odd crowns upon their heads. Both shops have the air of being important about themselves, even though they are both small. As time has gone past in this town, you’ve noticed the growth of the two businesses, from plain, wooden shacks, to stores no longer made out of just plain wood, exciting and intriguing. Unfortunately, there’s only so far that they can expand without more funds, and, as Mr. Cooke has always pointed out, there’ll be no change unless there is more cash.
“Mr. Cooke…” you say the minute you rush into his shop. He looks slightly taken aback at your random appearance, “Can you evaluate what I have here? These pieces of instruments are quite…precious.”
“Alright, let me see…” And he takes the instruments out of your hands.
You stand awkwardly, waiting in the entrance of Cooke’s store, as the man himself observes the violins, ‘hmm’ing and ‘ahh’ing as he turns their glorious bodies around in the light from an unshaded bulb above him. Occasionally, he lowers one to his ear and plucks at the strings so quietly that you cannot hear them.
Finally he stops that, and takes the instruments down from near the light back to your level. Mr. Cooke smiles kindly, looking from the instruments to you and back.
What does he say?