With one more mighty press of the bellows, the door to the shop had blown open, and the cloud of black smoke went out. Finn held the compressed bellows triumphantly aloft before placing them in an umbrella stand near the door. "Is somebody there?" He called out as he removed a checkered handkerchief from his back pocket, and attempted to remove the soot from the lenses of his goggles, but only managing to leave smudges and streaks. So, instead he simply lifted the goggles up onto his forehead. "Ah. There you are. Sorry about the mess. I'll get that motorbike running eventually."
With a whistle, a flock of feather dusters flitted about the room, moving amongst the shelves while a pair of brooms danced with each other along the floor. "Is there a particular treasure I can help you find?" Finn asked the pair while he wiped his hands on his leather apron, one hand gloved, the other not.
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In over his head |