"Derot, please! You have to get your production up again. You know my clients!" Tareeq, one of Derot's retailers was almost on his knees, pleading.
Derot shook his head with regret.
"Since you never stop gossiping about old men and women acting like horny teenagers, thanks to these potions, I might know your clients better than they know themselves by now. And I sympathize with you since I'm also suffering from this. But what can I do? You know the pressure I'm under," Derot lamented.
Tareeq sighed.
"I know. I'm just barely managing to rely on the influence of my clients to keep selling. I can't imagine what it's like for you. I'll…I'll ask around. See if there's something I can do."
"There's no need for that. The trouble this time isn't something your clients can do anything about. Just keep yourself and your business safe."
"Thanks for worrying about me, but are you sure?"
