Krrik hisses softly when pleased and polishes every new bottle with the tail of his own cloak. He barters in goblin-style: small favors, odd trinkets, or a bit of coin. He'll throw in a 'free sample' of questionable reliability if he likes you. The shop smells of vinegar, old citrus peels, and something faintly metallic; a token brass slug sits by the register to prove he's the proprietor (he steals it back from customers who leave him friendly notes).