"Oh, you're an Asgardian?" Magnus sounds delighted as he opens the vial and empties it into a slightly larger one, then adds another half a vial. One and a half doses for an Asgardian, better safe than sorry. "Well, now I'd be even more inclined to give it to you gratis, but that's no way to run a business."

There's a little swirl of magic in the palm of his hand and a tiny crystal box appears, lid up. "If you could part with a strand of your hair, that would be more than fair for this. ...I'd also accept a measure of spit, but I assume you're feeling a little dry at the moment?"

Not all potion ingredients are pretty flowers.