pint of paint

Keenan scowled at the potion. It wasn’t turning out the way he wanted it to. There was something he was missing. He knew that. He could sense it. That was what it meant to be a true Potions’ Master.

However, his sense didn’t tell him what was wrong with the potion. He needed to figure that out from experience. He frowned and looked over the things that were already in the potion. He’d used dye. His brows furrowed.

“Not dye,” he said, his voice soft. Then, he tapped the words on the page. “I need a pint of blue paint!”

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