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Mutt heard the two men before he saw them. They appeared to be arguing, even as one of them held the door open for the other.
"Do we have to, angel?" the door-holding one whined, swaying slightly as if still wondering whether he could make a run for it.
The other man shot him a look, lips slightly pursed. There would be no escaping this, he was very clearly communicating without even opening his mouth.
As a professional magician, Mutt was exceptional at spotting misdirection. The more flashy ones - a beautiful assistant, a flash of lightning, designed to draw your eye away from the trick you were supposed to be following. Even the more subtle ones - a wave of the hand to distract you from your card sliding to the bottom of the deck. And people... people were like magic tricks. Their words were just as much a misdirection as anything Mutt could do while performing.
'Follow the hands,' he would always say to his spouse while he leaned closer, partly to feel them shudder against him, partly to point at all the ways people would give away their intentions with nothing but a flick of a wrist.
Mutt, naturally, focused on the body language of the pair entering his shop. The slightly taller one, dressed in all black and infinitely grumpy, was scowling. That, he could admit, was not much of a revelation. But there was also the way his hands were fluttering, just slightly, the way he was leaning into the other man. Ensuring his presence was notable. Affectionate, Mutt wondered quietly before it hit him. Protective, that was the word he had been looking for.
The man wasn't simply unhappy to be here, he was anxious. And his first reaction was to try and stick closer to his 'angel', loom over him protectively.
Mutt was going to like them, he realised, even though he had yet to greet them and they were still stuck in the doorway, too wrapped up in a quiet argument only a certain type of people who had known each other a long time were capable of.
"Good afternoon. What can I do your gentlemen for?" He let his voice boom, the words heavy and pointed. He knew what people expected from the keeper of his particular brand of shop and he was more than happy to oblige.
The non-grumpy one, the 'angel', immediately looked up to meet his smile. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if he had forgotten where he was for a moment, and Mutt felt his smile twitch even wider. Yes, he decided, he was going to like them.
The man headed towards his counter, not even sparing a glance back at his companion. Not that he needed to, the grumpy one was following him. Silently fuming but still. Right there.
"Hello," the man said, as if bracing himself for something, before his face melted into a smile. A beautiful, wide smile, the sun breaking through the clouds and just as warm. Mutt had to fight the sudden instinct to shield his eyes.
"My name is Mr. Fell, I own the bookshop right around the corner." The man pointed around himself as if Mutt could follow his finger to the shop. He couldn't, of course, but he still nodded. It was only polite. "We have come over as we are in desperate need of some magic tricks."
"You are," the other man grumbled, at least having the decency to appear as if he was trying to mutter it under his breath. Mr. Fell didn't even deign him with a look this time.
The strangest thing, however. Despite the fact that the bookshop owner appeared to very much enjoy being here and also very much dislike how much his companion was not enjoying it, Mutt couldn't help but focus on his body language. Because Mr. Fell was also leaning against the other man, not only welcoming him in his personal space but actively seeking him out. And there had been a hand, that he had rested on the other man's lower back, as fleeting as a false cut, when he had joined him at the counter.
Whatever his companion was anxious about, Mr. Fell was aware and he was handling it. As subtly as he could possibly manage.
"Of course," Mutt agreed easily, sweeping his hands to the side. "Anything I can interest you in?"
Mr. Fell looked around, eyes round and excited and for a moment Mutt forgot that he had before himself a middle-aged man. It became very apparent the man would not be able to choose on his own, not because he didn't like anything, but because he was drawn to every single item in the shop. Every time, without fail, his eyes landed on a trick or a prop, he would gasp as if he had never seen anything like it before, beam, and then turn to his partner to seek his approval. It was endearing and Mutt wasn't the only one who thought that. Because every time Mr. Fell would turn to him, his friend would be smiling in a very specific indulgent way Mutt was painfully familiar with.
"Angel," the man finally sighed, one hand going to squeeze at the other's forearm before retreating quickly.
"Ah, yes, quite right, my dear!" Mr. Fell replied. Still took a minute to finish looking around but when he finally turned to Mutt, his eyes were focused and non-prone to wandering around. "You see, it is our godson's birthday this week and I was hoping to... entertain, as it were! I told Crowley, I said, my dear, I am quite sure I can deal with a few dozen children. He didn't believe me, of course, so here we are."
The man in question didn't even try to appear guilty.
"Because you are horrible at magic, angel," the man said, not a drop of venom in his voice. He actually sounded quite gentle about it and Mutt couldn't stop the thoughtful hum that escaped his lips. Well, he did have a few things he could offer a talented amateur, didn't he.
Besides, you didn't have to be Harry Houdini to entertain a few children at a birthday party.
"I am sure we can find something suitable," he agreed with another smile. The man, Crowley, was looking at him, which Mutt could tell by all the obvious signs except the one related to his eyes. His mouth was in a thin line and he looked more than a little suspicious. Mutt nodded at him, trying to portray a camaraderie against a common enemy. In this case, he supposed that would be Mr. Fell's attempts at anything more advanced than a card flourish.
"Oh, yes, please! I would be most grateful." Mr. Fell was smiling. It appeared he, too, wanted to join forces against attempting anything more complicated than what a particularly nimble 7 year old could do.
Mutt mentally went over his inventory before settling on a few things anyone starting at magic would need in any case. He was just about to gesture towards the appropriate corner when Mr. Fell's eyes were drawn to something on his left. The eyes widened, took on a twinkle. Mutt didn't even have to turn around to see the object of the man's sudden attention.
Before he could apologise and explain that, no, in fact the firearm was not for sale, hadn't been for sale in decades really, was far too dangerous to be anything more than a fun little decoration, a little 'look at what people were doing back in the day'. Besides, wouldn't it be so much more fun if the man took a look at his special hollow table. He could even throw in the top hat for free, no extra charge.
Before any of that had rushed out of his mouth, Crowley was hissing out a pained, "No."
Mr. Fell's head snapped towards the other man. Something soft and vulnerable and particularly painful flickered across his features, his hand fluttering in the general direction of his companion, for just a moment, before fingers were curling in on themselves.
Interesting, Mutt thought to himself, even if he had no idea what had happened between the two to cause such a visceral reaction. Or, rather, he could imagine what might have happened, given the thing that was at the root of this was a rifle, even if one that was used as a prop in a magic trick. He just couldn't imagine any of these two men with anything more dangerous than a pair of scissors.
The two men continued to stare at each other, a silent conversation that Mutt couldn't even begin to decipher. If only because one half of the pair was not only decidedly mute but had also carefully shuttered any emotion from his face.
"Apologies, gentlemen. I am afraid the 'Bullet Catch' is not for sale. Too dangerous, it is," he finally said, hopeful that by taking the prop out of the equation, he would get the pair to snap out of their little silent universe.
He was right.
"Ah, that is no problem at all, dear chap. It just brought back memories, is all." Mr. Fell waved a hand at him, a sheepish smile on his face.
Mutt narrowed his eyes, instinctively scanning the other man's face for an answer to the question that had popped up in his head. The man looked older, yes, which Mutt could generally attribute to the hair, so blond it was almost white. Mutt's age, no more than a decade his senior. Certainly not old enough to have ever owned one of these.
His confusion must have shown on his face as Mr. Fell was shaking his head quickly, long before Mutt had even managed to formulate a question that didn't sound terribly rude.
"No, no, you misunderstand," Mr. Fell hurried to say. "My, ah, great-grandfather, yes, he owned this. Performed the trick on the West End Stage in 1941, he did."
Mr. Fell was smiling proudly, as if presenting his own achievements, and Mutt couldn't help but indulge him.
"Did he, indeed? What was his name, I must have heard of him?"
Impossibly, the smile grew even wider. "His stage name was Fell the Marvelous," the man shared excitedly, before turning a little bashful. "But I don't suppose you have heard of him. His career was sadly cut very short."
Mutt, who had been prepared to lie through his teeth and heap compliments on the man for the career of his long dead relative, narrowed his eyes in thought. He did recognise the name actually. Not in any professional capacity, mind. But he had seen it in the ledgers, he was sure of it. Mostly, because the man's great-grandfather had been the last customer of one of the previous owners, before his gruesome and sudden murder, but he was certainly not going to share that with Mr. Fell.
Mutt nodded with a smile.
"I certainly recognise the name. Frequented this shop, did he not?" A quick nod from the other man, a dazzling smile. Mutt focused on the other part of the information Mr. Fell had provided and he finally turned to gaze at the Bullet Catch thoughtfully. "I hope the end of his career was not caused by anything in this shop."
"Oh, no, not at all." Mr. Fell preened happily. "The show was quite a success."
Crowley, who had until now spent his time looking at his companion in chilly silence, snorted. "Not thanks to your grandfather, that's for sure."
Mutt almost expected a quiet reprimand or at the very least, a gentle huff. Neither of this happened. Mr. Fell flushed a lovely pink and when he turned towards the other man, there was something so tender in his gaze, it almost felt like Mutt was not supposed to notice it.
"That's right, my dear. We can thank your grandfather for that," the man said in a voice one would usually reserve for coaxing a feral cat. Or a particularly venomous snake.
Crowley went very still, the only sign of life - the slight flush climbing over high cheekbones. Finally, he grumbled, with far less bite than Mutt had expected, "Quite right. Only reason you are still here, after all."
Ah, that explained it, Mutt realised with the satisfaction that came with figuring out a particularly challenging sleight of hand. Their families were close, they must have grown up together. Childhood sweethearts, even, if the fact they had melded so well together was any indication. He didn't usually let himself get drawn in other people's personal lives, but these two, there was something about them. In the way they moved as one, the almost touches that appeared to be more intimate than if they had started groping each other right there in the middle of his shop. The way they communicated a thousand words with just a gaze, and that on its own would have been startling, considering one of them was so insistent on wearing shades indoors.
"Your families are close?" Mutt let himself ask, curiosity getting the better of him, and braced himself for another one of Mr. Fell's dazzling smiles.
That, that wasn't what happened. Mr. Fell's mouth hung open, in a manner that Mutt was sure he would be most embarrassed about, if he wasn't frozen in shock. Crowley, on the other hand, started laughing. Not the little snicker you would expect from someone who looked like him, but a full on laughter, one hand on his belly, head thrown back and whole body shaking.
"Oh, oh, that was good," Crowley said finally, wiping at his eyes and Mutt almost expected it to be performative, but no. There were actual tears there. "You are good. Our families - close, angel! Can you imagine?"
Mr. Fell had had the good sense to close his mouth, but he still appeared as mute as before.
Rival families then, Mutt wondered. Still, childhood sweethearts, the two of them. There was no way to fake a connection such as this one, one that had spanned most of their conscious lives, if he had to guess. No way to force something that appeared to have grown so organically between the pair.
As if having read his mind and anxious to prove him right, Mr. Fell pressed a hand to his companion's back.
"Come, dear, that is quite enough." His gaze flickered over the shop with something akin to desperation, before settling on, strangely enough, Mutt's magic table. "Why don't you go over there? Look, there's a fez. You like fezzes."
Crowley swayed in place, head rocking left to right as if weighing his options.
"Fezzes are cool," he allowed finally, suspicion clear in his voice. He was obviously waiting for something but when the other man did nothing more than smile indulgently at him, he nodded quickly and headed towards the magic table with a crystal ball and, yes, a fez.
Mr. Fell watched him retreat, before finally turning to Mutt. The smile never once left his lips.
"You must excuse him," the man said gently, as if too used to apologising for his partner's behaviour. "He is not exactly a fan of, well, this."
"That's awfully kind, then. For him to accompany you," Mutt replied, unsure why he was suddenly meddling in this person's relationship, only certain it was the truth.
Somehow, Mr. Fell's smile turned even more precious.
"Isn't it just."
With his grumpy companion out of the picture, it was surprisingly easy to furnish Mr. Fell with all the trademarks of a good magician. In no time, the man was the proud proprietor of a top hat, a wand, a trick deck and even a table with a missing bottom that Mr. Fell promised he would be around to collect the day after. Mutt even showed him a few magic tricks, free of charge, of course, his only payment the child-like wonder on the other man's face.
Truthfully, by the time he was leading Mr. Fell back to the counter, he had almost forgotten about the other visitor of his shop. Which might have been the reason why he startled when he found Crowley leaning against the counter, waiting for them, a card balanced between long finger. The man's chin was pointing up, lips drawn in a tight line, as if daring either of them to comment on his generosity.
Mutt couldn't say with certainty how effective his posturing was, as while Mr. Fell was not saying anything, he was beaming in a way that very obviously said they would be having words when they finally made it home. And some of those words would, undoubtedly, be compliments.
"Shut up," the man in question growled half-heartedly. "Don't want you saying I never do anything for Warlock."
"Of course, dear," Mr. Fell agreed easily.
"Stop it! Last time I do something nice for you, angel, I swear it."
"Yes, my dear." He was still smiling. Crowley hissed at him.
Mutt was also hiding his delight behind the polite customer service smile he always had on his face. Nobody could accuse him of finding this adorable. No, this was his regular smile. Nothing more to see here.
He watched as the two men left his shop, Mr. Fell's newly purchased valuables piled in Crowley's hands, even as the man was back to his hissing, grumbling self. Not that it appeared to bother Mr. Fell, not at all, as he leaned closer, rambling on excitedly about something Mutt couldn't hear, just as absent-mindedly happy as he had been when he had looked around the shop.
But Mutt knew better now, knew to look for the gentle palm pressed against the low of Crowley's back, the way the man held the door open for his companion, nothing flashier than a twinkle in his eyes as his friend muttered something under his breath. The flutter of fingers around a forearm as Crowley minutely stumbled right outside his shop, trying to balance both the purchases in his arms and his innate desire to act like hips were for other people.
Yes, Mutt thought, just like any other magic trick. All you had to do was follow the hands.