"Thank you," Will murmured, as the mortician offered a chair.
After a brief internal debate, Will selected the chair to the right and settled down into it, scooting to the edge of the seat, back straight. Watching what the mortician was doing curiously, he took the time to study the space; leather-bound books, dust-free urns (empty, Will hoped). The space seemed to fit the man and Will couldn’t help the smile that danced on his face at the sight—man and space molding to fit each other so seamlessly.
An interested noise escaped Will’s throat as he leaned forward a little, trying see the book clearly from his position, craning his neck a little before the book was turned around to face his direction. Nibbling his lip, Will turned each page delicately, concentration etched in his brow and eyes.
Will knew what he would like to get. Something big and grand, like the standing stones on the coast of Cornwall or the mountains in Wales. But Will also knew his limitations, that mainly being money, so he would have to settle for something smaller. He paged through a series of column looking monuments, rejecting those by sight and only started to slow as he came to more round carved stones, like wheels, some of them. “Maybe this?” Will said, half-questioning himself as he turned the book back. “My mentor always like a certain symbol—er, could I draw it?”
Mortimer folded his hands neatly atop the desk as he watched with keen eyes as the boy pored over the book. To his estimation, he looked to be somewhere in his mid-teens. Being a small-town undertaker, Mortimer knew just about everyone in the area from having served their families at one time or another, but this boy’s face was strange to him. He silently wondered from whence he came and exactly for whom he was requesting this monument, but decided that these answers would come soon enough.
He was just about to make a suggestion when he saw the expression on the lad’s face change, so he held his tongue and waited.
He leaned forward slightly to look at the monument he pointed to. “Ah, that is an excellent choice.” He nodded slowly, a small smile at one corner of his lips. “Yes, of course.” He opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a sheet of paper. He took a pen and a bottle of ink from one corner of the desk and set all three items in front of him.
"You will have to excuse me, sir, perchance it is senility catching up to me sooner than I imagined, but I do not believe that I caught your name."
✜ what’s their posture like in a normal situation?
Back and legs straight, shoulders relaxed, feet together, hands clasped either before him or behind him, head inline with the median of his body.
❖ describe their hands
Pale and bony with long fingers, a few callouses on the palms, and normally dry. There is a large scar across his left palm.