"I-it's okay," Pleasance sniffled from the carriage, and Benton nearly rolled his eyes at the ugly show of it all as she let her own eyes dampen and faked a few sniffles. Young, rich gollies, always with the show of crying and victimization. Woe is me! Benton thought to himself, yet, underneath the lie of who he truly was to Pleasance and who he was now pretending to be to their visitor, he leaned gently back into the carriage, eyes soft with some dug up pity.
"Do take all the time you need to compose yourself, Miss Pleasance." he called to her in a reassuring tone, making sure to identify her clearly. It was far less likely that a man forcing her into his carriage would ask her name, he assured himself. "I realize it is quite an emotional moment for you, but, if you're up to it, feel free to join us," he added, half to ease his urge to call out her fit of drama and tears. He left the door open wide and, without needing to step around his small new visitor, he eased his long legs from the top step to the ground in one fluid motion. The door's ajar state and the invitation to join were to, again, ease any idea that Pleasance was trapped there. The door was wide open, he had stepped away from it, and he had openly invited her out into a public space. He was simultaneously removing himself from the situation as he acted. thinking of what questions and qualms he would have if he had happened upon this. Is she free to leave? Yes.
"Tea salesman..." he allowed the word to sizzle on his tongue as he considered what the Mugrobi woman had identified him as. "It is not the words I would choose, but, yes, I am, in part, a tea salesman." On the ground, now, he stepped over to his display of bottles, tracing his fingers over the bottles thoughtfully as Benton chose Roderick's words. "As humans, we have no access to the high-class education or mystical conversation that allows galdori like you and Miss Pleasance to, perhaps, heal wounds, to cure sicknesses, to ease pains both through your powers otherworldly nature and books." At which, he turned to the Mugrobi woman. He was not lying, at least not as he spoke. The words came easy, naturally to him, without his third-person view of self questioning his words and motives. He learned young of herbal medicines and remedies- his own mother had studied plants and made home remedies more available to their friends and family members in Bastia as she travelled, collected, experimented to find something in her own power that could do what galdori medicine could.
"We live a hard life without superior medicine like yours. These teas, potions, oils- they help us to continue to work and live through headaches- eased by spearmint oil teas- stomach illness- by a brew of lemon balm and peppermint leaves- shaking coughs - that's licorice tea- and sleepless nights- lavender oil, you may know," he rattled off the home remedies he knew so well from childhood, some of them the oils and tea bags he sold, pulling a bottle of lavender oil, labeled for the aid of sleep to fussy babies. He placed it back on the shelf after carefully turning the label to face out.
"You must understand- I am just trying to help people live better. That's all." And perhaps Roderick Godfrey, the amalgamation of his mother's maiden name and his own surname by birth, the face made from what his parents had long ago wanted him to be, did want this. He wanted to sell medicine and help the humans that succumbed to pain and suppression and disease around him, but that was not Benton. He was too far gone in this business, instead choosing to sell addictive drugs among his oils and teas to ease pain and ease coins away from a wallet. He was here only to sell overstock, to find new contacts.
"Would you like to buy some tea then, Miss?" he asked, pulling himself gingerly from his moment of passion. He smiled, turning to look back over his shoulder at her. "I have a few wonderful summer blends that can warm you like a Mugrobi sunset if you'd like a sample- first cup free of charge."