Manabu makes a few picks of [suitable cooking spices, i am not a cook, no i will not google it, it's 9am on the weekend i don't think on the weekend], just enough for the small handful of vials that Airy had picked up. At their feet, Magnet circles around and through legs, reaching his limit of not being paid attention to, but still behaving. Mostly.

"This'll be good," he affirms, stowing the vials in his satchel and nodding to Airy appreciatively. "And I'll make sure you get a cut of whatever I make with them, okay? Fair's fair."