One, two, three. Tickets dispensed, potions made. Slap your hands clean, dip them in hot cauldrons, burn away the remains with poisons. Repeat. Throw in a few clients. Smile and appease, repeat.
The cylinders sit brewing their concoctions and potions. The witch waits nearby, taking in the sounds of a bustling city tavern. Music, lights, merriment. Different, but beautiful.