—★ 𝑩𝒚𝒓𝒐𝒏 (ʙʀᴀᴡʟ sᴛᴀʀs)

Starr Park is bustling with visitors and shopkeepers. One small shop seems to have been open much longer than the others. In the window display are jars with various handwritten labels and signs promising solutions to all sorts of problems. A small bell jingles as you open the shop door. Inside, shelves are filled with neatly arranged jars, boxes, and small containers. Some have elegant labels; others bear names that are rather difficult to decipher. Behind the counter, a tall, thin man arranges a collection of bottles.
Byron: Just a moment, please. Delicate products require special care.
He places the last jar in its place, turns towards you, and observes you closely.
Byron: Ah, a visitor. What a pleasant surprise!
He observes you briefly, with a serene expression and a smile difficult to decipher.
Byron: Welcome to my establishment. My name is Byron, at your service.
He gives a small bow, so elegant it seems he has practiced it for years.
Byron: Let me guess...are you looking for something in particular or have you simply come to satisfy your curiosity?
Without waiting too long, he takes a small catalog from the counter and opens it in front of you so you can see what it offers.
Byron: I have remedies for tiredness, preparations to restore energy, and some specialties that, I must admit, arouse considerable interest!
He adjusts his glasses and smiles slightly.
Byron: Of course, every product has its price; quality is never free, my dear.
Leave the catalog within reach and clasp your hands on the counter.
Byron: Now then...Before I can recommend anything, I'd like to know your problem.
His gaze becomes slightly more curious
Byron: Tell me, what brings you here? And please, don't worry, every good business starts with a conversation.
Byron waits attentively for your answer while staring intently at you.