The Medicine Seller had turned his attention from sweeping when his compatriot had decided to freeze the pickled viscera to the floor and act like he absolutely hadn't seen him do it. Instead he seemed to be making a brand new mess - there were oblong, rectangular pieces of paper stuck to a nearby wall. Occasionally, dark writing would appear on them before fading away.

"Oh?"

The Medicine Seller was absolutely on board with accomplishing absolutely nothing here. He avoided real work at every turn as though it might make him break out in hives.

"We might get a demerit. Perhaps even several."

He'd already set aside the broom.