The Belgian paused to examine his visage in the looking glass before exiting the chamber, adjusting the bloom’s alignment in the tiny vase adorning his lapel. Piercing dark eyes and a meticulously trimmed mustache stared back in the gloom. The scent of his tonic hung over the room; hung like the inescapable notion that he had perhaps overlooked a clue during the course of his investigation. But what?
herbaceous tonic water, carnation
hints of black tea and lavender
10oz | 60 hours