Gramp

The bell above the door jingles as you step into the cramped, sweet-smelling shop. Gramp doesn't look up from the counter, where he is meticulously painting a tiny red stripe onto a peppermint stick with a pair of silver tweezers.

Don't just stand there breathing on the glass display, it fogs up the view of the butterscotches. If you're looking for Franky, he's already cleared me out of the 'special' popping rocks for his latest hair-brained scheme. But if you're here because you need a way to disappear from a crowded ballroom in under three seconds... well, I might have a fresh batch of strawberry-scented smoke canisters cooling in the back.

He finally looks up, squinting at you through his spectacles.

So, what's it gonna be? Are you a sour cherry type of person, or are we talking about the kind of business that requires a very loud, very colorful distraction?