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If there was one thing Shaun Gilmore understood, it was useless, extraneous items that, however inconvenient, emphasized one’s chosen aesthetic. While his own little luxuries generally didn’t shed, drool, or take bowel movements the size of cats, he understood that Vex’s chosen aesthetic was very different from his own. And yes, as a business man, having a several-ton wild animal sniffing around his (extremely fragile and occasionally explosive) merchandise made him more than a little nervous, but that was one of the risks one took when one primarily serviced adventurers. Adventurers, in Gilmore’s extensive experience, were eccentric as a rule.
So, it was with a strange mixture of low-level anxiety and respect that Gilmore watched Trinket stretch out in the middle of his store while his mistress chatted animatedly to Jordana about the upcoming harvest festival. Gilmore didn’t fault Jordana— her casual conversation had a way of wresting gold from even the notoriously tight-fisted Lady Vex’ahlia— but he sure as all hells wasn’t going to retreat to his office with a bear in his shop and his employee distracted. Not with a new shipment of Lord de Rolo’s bottle rockets lying just inches from the bear’s oversized back legs. Of course, Lord de Rolo insisted that his fireworks were perfectly safe and needed a large flame to set them off— but then, he would say that, wouldn’t he?
“Tired? Long night?” Gilmore felt incredibly stupid talking to a bear, but it felt rude not to talk ti the bear, to just stare accusingly. After all, had Trinket not shown great valor in battle? Was he not Vex’ahlia’s most evocative accessory, an enduring symbol of her prowess as a hunter and warrior, her connection to the wilderness? Such an animal, whatever his potential for destruction in a commercial setting, deserved respect.
“I don’t suppose you’re looking to purchase anything,” he said, a little louder. Trinket sighed heavily and turned his mournful gaze from Vex to Gilmore.
“Ah, so you want your Mother to stop dillydallying and take you home.”
Trinket didn’t nod exactly, but he inclined his snout in such a way as to confirm Gilmore’s assessment and emphasize his own misery.
“Of course a big bear like you wouldn’t be interested in my dull little establishment. You want to be free to roam the Parchwood, to play with your brothers and sisters, don’t you?”
Gilmore could have sworn that when Trinket’s big watery eyes widened and he looked around excitedly, it was in response, as if he were looking for the de Rolo children to appear from behind a shelf, ready to roughhouse. Of course, Gilmore knew logically that bears couldn’t understand human speech. But this was an uncommonly intelligent bear and well, it was rather touching all the same.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be home soon enough,” Gilmore said, praying he was right. He had far too much work to do to spend his morning babysitting a bear, even an unusually charming and heroic one. The war is Wildemount had absolutely wrecked havoc on his supply routes and the manager of the Zadash branch quit to join the Righteous Brand. It was enough to drive a man mad, and perhaps already had considering his not-small feeling of affection for a fifteen hundred pound wild animal.
The poor thing just looked so damned lonely. Trinket was obviously starving for the tiniest scrap of attention and— That gave Gilmore an idea.
“I don’t suppose you’d like something to eat, would you, old boy?”
The effect was immediate. Trinket’s posture straightened, his eyes brightened; there was no doubt that he understood Gilmore, however insane it might seem.
“What would you like to eat, hm? A big juicy deer?”
Trinket’s tongue slipped out and he nodded solemnly.
“I’m fresh out of deer carcass unfortunately. Really, all I’ve got is an apple and some kidney pie. Would you like some pie?”
And while Gilmore rifled behind the counter for his lunch, it was the damnedest thing— Trinket followed and then perched on his hind legs, his front paws neatly tucked against his chest. It was unnerving and perhaps a little cute.
“Don’t tell your mother I’ve been giving you treats,” Gilmore warned. Trinket shifted nervously, almost guiltily, but whatever moral debate raged in his furry soul was put to rest when the kidney pie was produced. A gentle trickle of drool fell onto the floor.
Gilmore had intended to feed it to Trinket the way he would a dog but one glance at his teeth put that to rest. He dropped the pie onto the floor with a satisfying plop and watched as Trinket’s massive tongue scooped it up in one fell swoop and then gave a few extra licks to gather up any stray crumbs.
“Trinket! Are you bothering Gilmore!?”
Gilmore jumped a little at the sharpness of Vex’s tone and shot Trinket a look that (he hoped) communicated their bond of secrecy. Trinket sighed happily.
“He’s been an angel,” Gilmore said, and really, Trinket did look rather angelic with his eyes fixed on Gilmore with an adoration usually reserved for Vex’ahlia and her children.
“Oh?” Vex said, emerging from the backroom with a brown-paper package that looked suspiciously like a bottle rocket. “Trinket, have you been making friends?”
Trinket looked nervously from Vex to Gilmore. Gilmore smiled and, with no small trepidation, reached out to pat him on the head. Trinket did not bite him or urinate on him or growl. His fur was surprisingly soft.
“We’re going to be great friends,” Gilmore said, and honest to gods? Trinket purred.