This is the place. It has to be. Dirk has come to an unceremonious halt outside the shop, staring in the windows. Plants, acceptable. A cat, weaving a back-and-forth path across the counter, trying to monopolize the attention of the lone shopkeep, fine. More than fine. Well, the cat, anyway. But there are... how does he put this kindly? There are accoutrements which pluck at something in him, instill in him an awful suspicion, raise in him a lingering sense of dread.

So, naturally, this absolutely has to be the place.

Dirk pushes his way into the shop to the tinkling of bells -- just awful -- and pauses as he's roughly accosted by the scent of incense, shaken down, and released to go on his way.

"Hello!" Wave! Oh, God, he's just wafted some of it into his own face. "My name is Dirk Gently, and I work here, apparently."

A beat. "Probably you already knew that."