2021-02-06 - Fortunes in the Garden II

In true pearl clutcher fashion, Alti is weary of the almost homeless looking woman who practices business (likely without a proper license) in the park named after her family. She wears a knee length navy pleated skirt with match bag and flats, classic collared plaid and navy button down, tan jacket, tights, and of course: pearls. Her Angel curls billow over her shoulders as she jaunts. She slows near the stone age lady, bag hanging in the crook of her arm is pulled a bit tighter to her. "Hello!" She says in an overly cheerful manner, with a wave. "I'm Atli Addington. Do you need help finding services to support you at this time?"

A perfect grin is flashed, her straight white teeth gleaming with ferocity of positivity. This could almost be taken as a threat 'Get help or get out'. This is unsaid of course, nothing other than overly helpful white privilege here.

The fortune teller tilts her head, studying Atli thoughtfully. "You know, you don't look a bit like her." She shrugs this aside. "No, my dear Atli, I'm fine, really." She lifts up a modest-sized tote made from an upholstery remnant (if a fine, red, black, and gold brocade one), gestures at it. "Everything I could ever need is right here."

For a moment, Atli could swear she hears a goat bleating. The woman makes a shushing sound at the bag, sets it down. "But maybe you could use something in your time of need." She gestures at the bowl of items. "For a small fee I can read your cards, see what's in store for you, have a look at what's been, or explain where you are." One iron gray eyebrow goes up. "Interested?"

Who might stroll -- fine, fine, limp -- into Addington Park on such a cold February day of sunshine and crispy winds, if not one Ravn Abildgaard? Sick and tired of being cooped up and supposedly healing (am fine! almost not even limping!) and more than a little curious as to whether that strange old lady from last week is still plying her trade, the Dane drifts to a park bench nearby. Dressed for the weather in his customary blacks, at least the rather ruined leather jacket has been traded in for a black wind breaker and purple scarf; now he's sitting there, a cigarette in one hand, just quietly watching.

It takes him a moment or two to mentally place the blonde in the expensive clothes and perfect hair; he's met Atli Addington a few times but they are not close acquaintances. Seeing her approach the fortune teller causes the man to frown -- and crane his neck slightly to listen, rude bastard that he is.

Atli wrinkles he nose at the scent of nearby smoke. She could have sworn Hyacinth had explicitly placed signs about the place to discourage the outdated habit. Think of the children for God's sake! She would have swiveled her head to chastise to culprit were it not for the other oddities taking place. The blonde tilts her chin at the obviously addled swindler. She Atli Addington, never needed help, and if she did she bought it fairly.

Taking a regrettable inhalation through her nostrils at a meditative pace, the smile remains. She swears she hears a farm animal? Her baby blue's shift beneath lengthy lashes to scan for a loose creature. Nope, none. Mayhap she could help this crook meet her quota for the day early and call her into the local authorities before she practiced again tomorrow. From the bag she was obviously fake homeless. "I'm sorry, like who?" Lashes bat, but she begins to remove a twenty dollar bill from her wallet within the navy purse.

"Marlene," the fortune teller says. "I read her cards for her once, you know. I wonder if she remembers that, it was some time ago."

Her gaze slides towards Ravn, and she gives him a sly, private smile. "My dear count, if you want a better view, just come stand over here." And despite his distance, Ravn can hear her as easily as Atli.

To whom her attention returns. "I ask only a small token of yours--something significant to you, though which it won't hurt to part with. No money, as this society's coin holds no value to me. Except for rare money." She nods at the green Depression glass bowl. "Have a look at the sorts of things in there, if you need inspiration."

And what an assortment it is; there's all manner of tchotchkes and knick knacks, as well as true items of value (personal or otherwise). A purple heart service medal, an engagement ring, a...vape pen?...something that looks like a grocery list with a doodle on it, various keychains (a Statue of Liberty glints among them).

Ignacio is ambling alongside Ravn, his pronounced limp always with him, but that's just accepted about the young voice of the city pausing, and watching the exchange between the old woman and Atli Addington with a patience Jesus might be impressed by. Looking to Ravn he says only "Mental note. We never do that to our peeps." He turns and looks to the old woman and there's a lopsided smile, warm that the mild palsy leaves quirky and endearing in its own way. "Afternoon, neighbours."

Ravn murmurs something inaudible and no doubt very Danish under his breath and drifts one bench closer. He seems quite intent on staying seated; might be that whole recent getting holed with bullets. He nods at Ignacio slightly; whatever that's about, both men clearly know the frame of reference. "Probably for the better."

Atli could hardly imagine her mother taking part in colluding with this gypsy. Spotting both Ravn and Ignacio with targeted gaze now that the two were revealed to her. Problematically this was now an impending PR disaster. Her smile grows taught and forced. Get control of the situation Atli!

" Mr. Abildgaard are you not a teacher here now?" She says, eyeing the cigarette pointedly. "Serendipitous considering where we met!" It was clear her opinion of Ravn was currently malleable. The tight lips pull with higher tension. "Oh! Good Afternoon Mr. deSantos, your writing has reached yet further heights of what I would consider salacious!" The grin slacks enough to fire her shots.

Atli is already removing her necklace, was that a purple heart in the bowl!?!? These were the pearls her father had given her on her sixteenth birthday. She looks to the fortune-teller. "He's a history teacher, not a Count!" She giggles as though this idea is the funniest thing she has heard in a month of Sundays.

The fortune teller makes a low, amused sound. "It's possible he might be both--not all nobility reside on their backsides, enjoying life's hedonistic offerings. A few do something more with themselves." Does she flick a pointed look at both Ravn and Ignacio. Oh yes, she does.

She considers the necklace, frowns slightly. "You're certain, about the necklace? Gohl took your father from you, and I've no intention of behaving like that fiend." An eyebrow goes up. "On the other hand, if you'd rather part with it as a token of sorrow, I've received plenty of those."

Ignacio pauses and looks amused boggling, "I don't remember to discussing anyone sexual affairs, but as you seem happy I'm glad it could delight you." He pause and looks to Ravn and then Atli, "Also Mathematics. We're starting to contribute to educational outreach." Safe another day. You owe me coffee man, the look seems to say. The old woman speaking of Atli's late father changes up his demeanor on this considerably. "Well, respect and condolences." Still he waits patiently and drinks his coffee giving the woman a polite amount of space because he's not there to be rude, just curious.

"I do some online tutoring for Copenhagen U." Ravn blinks; the idea that some might assume him affiliated with Addington High -- Teddy something? -- had clearly not occurred to him previously even though the conclusion is not as far fetched as it might seem at first glance. He's a teacher. History is taught in schools. Cogito ergo sum ego docere ... or something along those lines.

Is he flat out ignoring any allegations made by a certain fortune teller towards himself? Yes, yes, he is; the poker face of a confidence artist is in effect. Sexual af--wha'?

Maybe he needs that coffee. And maybe it's the teacher in him after all that cannot resist pointing out that, "Hedonism doesn't have to be sexual in nature."

Alti looks momentarily stunned, her recovery is not at the speed she would have liked, the mask of a smile slipping ever so slightly. "I have no idea what you mean, these are just an accessory I found at the back of my jewelry box today that I thought could use some air." Lie. "Besides, I have read enough about the concept of mystical trade in fairy tales to know that if this was a token of joy or importance, the harder something is to part with the more value it has." The necklace removed, it is placed gingerly in the bowl, on the far side from the vape pen. That dirty thing better not touch her precious pearls!

She can no longer even look toward her offering, parting with something that brought her such fond memories made her uneasy. She was however Atli Addington, and if she was going to do something, she was going to it not only correctly, but better than anyone else. Especially if this woman had attempted to insult her integrity. The concept of her father's death is unaddressed, the investigation of it's details a more personal obsessive hobby than she were likely to ever admit.

Atli clears her throat, "Yes well, thank you." She says vaguely to Ignacio. Still avoiding the section of the table with her item, "Ah yes! That makes much more sense. I told that gossip you were more educated than that, someone else seemed to think you were a chef for a while. Silly rumors." a hand bats the idea away.

"Proper hedonism certainly is," the old woman mutters. She cuts Ravn a Look which can have only one translation: Prude. "Mr. de Santos, we can discuss such things over your own cards, if you like."

Somehow, she has this exchange even as Atli falters when asked about the necklace. The fortune teller surveys Atli once she's said her piece, watches the pearls go into the bowl. "This is true. The stronger the connection, the greater the price." That said, she pulls a deck of cards from the box. The card back is a monochrome watercolor in purple: a zoomorphic wheel surrounding a sun. The old woman shuffles the deck, sets it down in front of Atli. "Cut the cards, and think of what you wish to know. You need not tell me, though of course, you may, if you wish. And you may also shuffle it some, if," her lips twitch in a wry smile, "you're concerned about being swindled."

Ignacio watches and a lopsided smile warms, "Good council never has a 0 value and only increases with how we decide to embrace it. In short, Ms. Addington, you'll give it value. It's pretty impossible to be swindled by a card reading. You get out of it what you choose to." He pauses and asks the old woman sitting out here on a February. He looks up at the coffee shop and back. There is a pull of glimmer and he bothers not hiding these things though something so trivial as a mote is highly dismissive in the Harbor. For now he sips his cpffee.

Ravn watches, silent. He's not thrilled to see Atli give up something as inherently valuable as those pearls and what they might signify to her -- but at least it's not a lock of her hair, or other piece of her. Who's he to argue? The ring he gave up is still there in the bowl, glinting and reminding him that he too made bad decisions once.

"I should have brought coffee too," he murmurs. For some reason the old woman's glare seems to make him uncomfortable and he looks away.

Atli's eyes widen with a fake innocence that almost rivaled her lack of earthly experiences. If anyone was a prude it was likely her. She bats her eyes but watches in challenge. "No I'm sure everyone practiced in these concepts who are practicing in parks are just as honest as yourself!" The radiation level of her positivity could cause melanoma.

The blonde does not in fact notice the coffee sipper's shining, her vision now glued to the deck. She places her hand atop the cards pressing down, she reverse spirals them round and round, inside to outter. The effect looks vaguely like a rose, some cards sticking out more than others as though called. "All voices have value indeed Mr. deSantos. I am never one to not put in the work to find value in things others may find no value in." This is said distractedly as a reminder of what she does for a living. When she is done, topaz pools move upward to Bubbe. "I wish to undo the damage done the best I can, I wish to know what is right."

She is of course referring to the struggle she had been facing on the lack details regarding the Addington Matriarch who she had idolized for most of her years, but now...She needed information, Atli needed her families legacy to be something to be proud of. The sins of ancestors must be answered for and poor Thomas had only done more damage. Atli straightens.

"That they may be," the fortune teller allows. "But some of them employ very different tactics than myself." She's not looking at Ravn, but she's not not looking at him, if you will. She stills a moment, steals a glance at Ignacio. "Why Mr. de Santos. So thoughtful."

The old womman nods at the question, restacks the deck, and turns the first card. It's a great sword standing point down among a flock of rampant swans. The artwork is highly detailed water color, striking and bold in some places, soft and shifting in others. "The Ace of Swords," the fortune teller says. "Swords are the suit of intellect and logic. They cut through confusion to clarity. But they can cut the wielder as well." She taps this sword in particular. "This is your family. Forged in fire, successful. Now is the time of breakthroughs for them. Perhaps one of your generation," a glance up at Atli, "will step forward with new ideas. Or, at least you should. It's past time, this card tells me. You and your kin must take the family forward into a new direction. Cut a new path. Forge ahead."

The next card is similarly lovely, but it's also upside down. It depicts a proud man, his back to the image, tattoed in leaves and vines, a great rack of antlers sprouting from his head. In his hand, a wooden staff with a roaring lion's head. More lion spirits swirl around him. The old woman looks highly amused. "The King of Wands. We've seen a fair bit of him lately." She ponders the card a time. "This is interesting. A card like this would typically represent a person in your life, or whom you're about to meet--a man, in this case. A man who could be charismatic and charming, a natural leader if he wished, but, see how the spirits fall away from him? He's too ruthless, even for lions." She pauses, makes a soft sound. "Of course. Gohl." She looks up at Atli, grim. "He has cast a long, enduring shadow on your family. It'll take you some time to move out from under it. What Margaret and Thomas did was unforgivable, but their crimes aren't yours. You can, if you wish, find a way forward. But not until you reconcile yourselves to what has been. Own your family's part in this town's history. Learn it--dig for it. Arm yourselves with that knowledge."

The final card is a gentler image: a little girl having a tea party for herself and several toys, under the boughs of a gorgeous tree. Golden koi swim through a stream below. This card is also reversed. "The Six of Cups." The old woman looks thoughtful. "This is a card of childhood reminiscence, of innocence. Like this, though, with the fish swimming into the part, it's an avoidance of what's now. Living in the past, clinging to the old at the expense of now." She gestures at the King of Wands. "Feeling overshadowed by past failures--even ones which might not be your own. Internal retreat isn't always bad, but," a tap to the first card and its bold sword, "this tells me the time for that to stop is upon you." She looks to the pearls. "Perhaps, then, the cards say it was time to let go of your father's loss. Accept that your family head cost you someone dear to you, and that only your generation is empowered to prevent such things from recurring."

She scoops up the cards and shuffles them back into the deck.

Kip had heard that fortune teller was back in the park while she wandered around some food trucks. So the (totally not a) Russian (spy) made her way to the area where the fortunes were being told. Quiet, curious, and maybe a little skeptical looking. Her hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail and she is in a pair of black jeans with a long-sleeved white t-shirt. She keeps a slight distance for now - an observer. Not entirely certain she wants to get a reading done.

Ignacio watches, one hand in pocket, holding his coffee with the other shrugging. Dunno what she's talking about. Really. He watches seeming not shocked about the Ghol news. Those who shine in the Harbor tend to be more aware of the massacre a year ago. Respectfully he stays quiet not intruding on the woman's moment. If nothing else there's a feeling that's just good advice all around. Looking to Ravn he arches an eyebrow, "She really is a bit on the nose isn't she?" Looking to the old woman and her offer he says "Sure. Why not. When your'e done."

"I don't do genuine readings," Ravn says quietly as the crone gives him that look. "I told you as much last week. I was a boardwalk entertainer. Cold reading can be a useful tool to gain insight, but there is nothing -- mystical -- about it."

He nods up at de Santos. "Please don't give her anything of your own body. Trust me. I'm a folklorist."

For what may one of the times countable on a single one of Atli's manicured fingers, she remains silent. At a glacial pace she nods at a glacial pace. There is a grievous that has overtaken her ever cheerful manner. Gripping her hands together before her, knuckles go white.

She nods again, this time seemingly to herself. She did not like what had to be done but that didn't mean it was any less necessary. Atli wished the answer were different, but it was she who asked the question. "Thank you." Is offered out from her petal lips in a business fashion. She nods a third time, not meeting anyone's eyes. It was February, long past the days where one could tangibly hold onto the dream of a flower. Such were now ugly, dead things.

Atli puts her hands in her pockets and proceeds in a direction, any direction but here. It was uncharacteristic of her not to give parting niceties. She needed to be alone with her thoughts and her broken heart.

"You're quite welcome, Ms. Addington. Have a care with your future. And your family's." The old woman's eyebrows bob up, once, back down. She tucks the deck into the box, settles back in her chair to watch Atli go. Once she's departed, her gaze drifts to Kip. "On the fence, Kapitsa? Take your time. I've Mr. de Santos to attend to."

She purses her lips at Ravn. "You're no fun, Count. None at all." A noisy clearing of her throat, then, "My chair is empty, Mr. de Santos. What would you care to trade? It needn't be anything of deep value, so long as it's meaningful to you." Her expression turns crafty. "A bit of your Art would suffice..."

Kip straightened ever so slightly as the the fortune teller called her out by her full first name. A full first name that only scant people in town actually knew. Kip was just easier to introduce herself as. She most certainly hadn't introduced herself to anyone here that she recalled. Maybe Rekani had somehow tipped her off? "Perhaps after the Mr. de Santos." She relented, looking over towards Igancio and then back to the fortune teller and her table. Scrutinizing it briefly.

Ignacio considers this wry benign request knowing damn well what she means. Graciously he smiles, "It couldn't possibly be as illuminating as your own, I'm afraid. Slightly used too." He pauses and pulls something out of his pocket. It's his 1 year chip. He takes a long look at it with the determination of a man that's deciding to let goof the run he has and try as he may to eventually replace it with another. Personal goal set in place he carefully sets it in the bowl giving it a long look and turning those brown eyes to the old woman. "*Un recordatorio de que las cosas imposibles se pueden superar, Abuelita." It's not an insult but a nod of respect to her venerability at the affectation. He looks to Ravn and makes sure he's okay and back, then to Atli. That's some heavy news and grief is no joke but she doesn't seem inconsolable loosing her lunch in a shrug. That's good. Looking back he says "What do I need to do?"

Ravn looks all right for a man who's sitting on a bench, wrapped in warm clothing. At a glance, he certainly looks a hell of a lot more all right than he should -- given that a week and a half ago, he was shot in the leg and through the chest. Man shouldn't even be out of hospital, but that's Gray Harbor for you, isn't it? He watches the Spaniard engage -- and he is curious and attentive as Ignacio does, because so far, this old woman has been not just hitting every red flag in the folklorist's mind, she's also been unnervingly on target.

The new arrival is not a familiar face; but she has that warmth, the one that most people see as a kind of light or shine, and he nods politely at her because there are only so many people in the world who do, and as far as Ravn is concerned, those are all on the same team.

The fortune teller dips her head to Kip. "We'll be but a moment." She watches the chip go into the bowl, gives Ignacio a solemn nod. "Oh, my Art isn't like any of yours, Mr. de Santos. It's a different thing. But this is a fine trade, none-the-less, escritorito. Please, have a seat. I'm sure the cold makes your leg ache the way it does my bones, hm? After this, you should go curl up in front of that lovely fireplace in the Celaeno House."

She pulls a deck from the wooden box; it's long and thin, with an abstract morning glory pattern on the back in dark gold and black. As she shuffles, she says, "Think of a question in your mind. You needn't tell me, though of course, you could also do that. I can perhaps read the cards more closely if you do." Satisfied with her shuffle, she passes the deck to Ignacio. "Hold what you wish to know in your mind, and cut the deck. You may also shuffle some, if you wish."

Ignacio settles in and considers this and her suggestion brings a wry grin to his face. "You know, You're not wrong and I jsut may at that. SO." There's a pause and he has a lot of questions biting his lip and looks to Kip and Ravn, "You know for a guy who spends most of his day answering questions do I have a question?!" And then it occurs to him, looking back. He takes the cards with care and a smile, not clever but with a kindness. "How about we let the cards decide." Looking at teh cards he shuffles asking "¿Qué necesito saber?" And that done he hands them back.
"Sometimes just listening instead of talking works best."

Kip offers a light but friendly smile to Ravn. "You have been here before it seems?" Shifting slightly so she could keep an eye on the fortune telling and now the new person. "You can call me Kip. What's your name?" She kept her voice low so as to not disturb things.

"Earlier in the week, yes." The man in black nods; he speaks with a light accent too, though probably Scandinavian rather than Baltic or Russian. Then he looks up with a small smile. "Ravn Abildgaard. I usually have manners, sorry. Good to meet you, Kip. I used to do -- that -- for a living, except, unlike our old friend here, I was just good at faking it."

Fortunately for Ravn, the fortune teller is focused on Ignacio (fortunately for everyone, truth be told), so she doesn't comment on his name and what he's left off it. Instead, she puts the bottom of the cut deck on top, turns a card.

It's a deck of stark, clean art, limited color pallette, and labeled in a dialect of Spanish: Galician. Rei d'Bastos. As the title implies, he's a man in a crown, armored and dressed in rich people, a staff of red ginger in one hand. His face is in shadow, and great clouds billow behind him. And, as he was for Atli, he's upside down. "The King of Wands, reversed. My, my this man is everywhere in this town..." She bobs her eyebrows at Ignacio, studies the card a time. "This is you, but not in the same way as it was for Ms. Addington. See how proud and austere this man looks, how sure of himself? His expectations for what he may accomplish--especially on his own--are far too high. He wants to move forward, and in his desire to do, and determination to do so quickly, he may easily cause his own downfall. Likely has," oh, the Look she gives him, "in the past. This is a caution: you must stop being this man."

The next card is a woman, probably in her mid-40s, seated on a stone wall overlooking the sea. Six flowers fall from her hands, the sun sets in the background. Her gaze is distant, distracted. Seis d'Copas. "Mmmm, and again, the Six of Cups. Upright, for you, and so the message here is different. It suggests you may be inclined to look back on what's been, nostalgic for what was while wishing to move forward. But you can't do that if you don't let go of some things and make an attempt at forward progress." She hovers a hand over the King of Wands. "You must set your past as this man aside. Start fresh."

Which might make the final card an interesting one: two hands opening a cosmic egg, from which a mistletoe plant springs. Yet they're upside down, and the young plant is sure to fall out. O Meigo. "The Magician, but reversed." She runs a finger along the edge of the card, contemplating it. "The Magician is an artist, you see, and thus this is you. The you of now, or soon. Your will to create is threatening to spill onto the floor, your talents unused and unordered. You've been called to rise to the occasion with your skills, but are unsure how to do so, lest," a finger on the King of Wands, "this one lead you astray. So you hesitate."

She settles back in her chair, tilts her head at Ignacio. "What you need to know, is this: you're possessed of considerable talent, but you're stuck. Caught at a tipping point, unsure where to go. If you wish to tend the seedling of your power, rather than leave it on the ground to be trampled, you'll need to look for guidance. Within, and without." She smiles, rueful, though not unsympathetic. "Not easy, for a Magus, once a King, to do, asking for help. You'll need to learn."

She takes up the three cards, pausing on the King of Wands. "You, sir, are everywhere in this town." She slides him into the deck, and puts the deck back in the box.

Cold but sunny, the kind of day that gets people out of the house in hope -- the kind of day that enough people's optimism takes them to the Boardwalk for it to do the same for Aidan. Like the fortune teller and for probably similar reasons he's got knit fingerless gloves on today, though his are rainbow coloured and hers probably aren't. They almost blend in, weirdly, with the calf-length coat quilted of myriad colours and patterns of fabric, with white stars appliqued equally randomly over things. A thick brown velvet rope-like trim capped by a fluffier golden one attempts to bring everything together by limning the hem, cuffs, and collar. It looks like he might have escaped from some performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, though in that case it probably wouldn't be worn over red jeans, ancient black Doc Martens, and a sweatshirt in a yellow-to-orange gradient. Not to mention the top hat and the wooden thing on a strap over his shoulder that becomes a table when he gets where he's going.

For now, though, he's distracted from where he was headed, breaking into a brilliant grin when he spots some of the people in the park. "Hey!" he calls brightly across, lifting a hand to wave, and trots that way, giving Ravn a quick assessment (result: does not look liable to collapse, good) and another to the fortune teller (result: interesting!) as he approaches. "Hey," he repeats, the smile aiming it to Ravn, then Kip who's talking to him, then Ignacio and the old woman, who look Busy Right Now. "How's it going? Are you guys getting your fortune read? And do you want some tuna casserole later, Ravn? 'cause I think I made too much. I dunno if Kitty Pryde'd like it but you might." To Kip, he adds, "Hi, I'm Aidan, sorry about interrupting." It's a little quiet, like talking in a library. Because there is fascinating stuff going on at that other portable table, and he shuts up then to eavesdr-- listen.

Ignacio watches as the lil grandma goes thorough flipping her cards. He offers AIidan a fistbump. "Sup, homes. Nada mucho." His hands fold, and subconsciously he rubs at his palm of the other. The damp cold is no joke when you've had as many surgeries as he has. "I think... actually," Oh shit is he going to correct her? He reaches down, a furrow of thoughtfulness, "I think the king is actually my brother... my father... and myself." He pauses and looks up to her admitting his part, "There was a very... complicated falling out with them. And I... thought I knew better once upon a time and did a lot more talking than listening... and I think he's been trying to do the best he can and..." He looks up to Ravn with a deep sigh. It's a lot to unpack. He's talked about it some in his books, his articles, and now he's moved away to here but now...what? "I need to call my pops for some business advice and... maybe start working on our own bridge because I can't fix Rafael's for either of them." Looking back to the old woman he says, "Me haces una gran amabilidad. Gracias."

"How fortunate," Ravn murmurs to the Spaniard, with just a hint of wryness. "It seems that our fortunes coincide to some extent, de Santos. Perhaps you can ask me for help and I can ask you. Sounds like we both have a lot of past to make peace with, and a lot of future to build."

Then the exuberance that is Aidan Kinney appears next to him and he lights up in a genuine smile; the two men, both street entertainers in each their own way, made friends easy and quick when Ravn came to town looking for a place to stay and some direction for his life. "Tuna casserole, you say? I might have to fight Kitty for it. Although with de Santos' paella and Mac sending over food too, she's going to end up horribly spoiled -- and so am I. You're all secretly plotting to fatten us up for the slaughter, aren't you?"

The folklorist nods back towards the old woman with the tarot decks. "I had mine read last week. She's very good. Very good. Dream-like, even." A warning? Yes, and not even a very subtle one at that.

Kip offers a smile to Aiden as well. "Hello there." A glance towards the woman and Ignacio. "I investigate the paranormal." She offers to Ravn when he talked about faking the fortune telling back in the day. "But I never really believed in this sort of thing. So to answer you question," Flitting back towards Aiden's question. "I probably will get it read. Just to see what's up. My boyfriend got his read and said it was pretty ...accurate? I wanted to satisfy my curiosity."

Ignacio smiles an impish grin to Ravn trying to look innocent singing Jonathon Coulton "IKEEEEEAAAA, just some oak, and some pine, and a hand full of Norsemeeeeen..." With patience he pushes himself to a stand making sure he didn't upset anything. It's not his anymore and it's just polite. Turning to the other three he says to Kip, "No harm in advice. If she tells you to get a nap? I'd take it. Paranormal around here strikes me as a non-stop business."

The fortune teller tilts her head at Ignacio, considering this new information, cuts a look an accusational look at the box. It's a sort of 'how dare you not tell me' glare she gives it, or maybe the deck she just put away. She regards Ignacio again, composure regained. "Ah, then in that case, the King is, indeed, the three of you--stubborn, hasty, quick to judge one another. Your expectations too high. And the Six of Cups is a call, then, to reconsider what happened before. See it in a new light, to move forward in your own life." Another nod, this one in approval of this alteration. "And since you got me tea, I'll accept the correction as my due." Tit for tat; Ignacio escapes unharmed. This time.

"As you see, the cards are seldom wrong. You infer as much as they tell. That's their power: introspection, tricked out of you by another's hand." She picks at an imaginary bit of lint on her coat, slants a look to Aidan and Kip. "Care to have a go? To," now Kip in particualr, "sate your curiosity, if nothing else." She rests a bony finger on the edge of the bowl. "I only ask a small token of personal value. Nothing too serious, unless you choose so."

"I totally say," Aidan tells Ravn with a grin, and of course Ignacio's fistbump is met. It's interesting, watching what's read and how Ignacio takes it, curly head tilted slightly, and he looks a little bit pleased at the way it seems to all make sense to the Spaniard, that it sounds like maybe it's going to help with family kinds of things. "...don't let her eat too much of it all, she'll turn into a ball and then when she's back on the boat she might roll off and bob away." This would be terrible! "And anyway, you're way skinny." Like Aidan should talk. It comes with a grin, anyway.

"Who's your boyfriend?" he asks Kip, "Um, if you don't mind me asking, anyway." A glance at Ravn suggests he might've caught the unsubtle warning, but... curiosity, and that last one seemed okay, right? The matter of 'tokens of personal value' takes some thought, though. "...what are you gonna do with 'em, ma'am?" he asks, taking a look at what's already in the bowl. Pearls and rings, that's one thing, but doodles and buttons...?

Ravn cracks a lopsided smile at the mental image of Kitty Pryde the small black cat turned into a ball and rolling off into the world to see out adventure of her own. Then he remembers that she sort of did that once already and that little incident lead to at least one dead woman and quite a lot of suffering -- and loses the smile. It was not his cat's fault that some bored Veil entity decided to turn her anger manifest, but there is such a thing as tempting fate and the folklorist has no desire to see it happen again. Sorry, Kitty -- no adventures for you.

He stands, and in doing so, winces slightly. "I need to get back home and rest. My ribs still feel like I got run over with a steamroller. Come over later, Aidan -- we'll most certainly help you hide the evidence of your tuna murder, that's how much of a cannibal I am." The Dane winks; there's some shared reference there that no doubt is a 'you had to be there' moment. So much, in fact, that Aidan wasn't there, though he's surely been told the story. "Be careful, though. And you too, de Santos. I'll talk to a few people tomorrow, health willing."

Then he's off -- limping towards Kickle... Heckle... Hufflepuff Trailer Park.

It is sunny out? Then guess who else is out? Kailey and baby of course. For the first time she has broken out an actual stroller. Maybe because Morganna is big enough to sit up and enjoy the semi-autonomy. The chubby-cheeked little girl cooing and babbling at the things around her. Staring at the pigeons pecking at the birdseed someone is scattering, she gets excited and bounces. Then there is a -dog- and it doesn't have spots? There is a happy screeching and she leans forward against the belts and tray reaching with her tiny hands for the golden retriever being walked by his owner. But they are on a jog and the woman doesn't even noticed even if the dog pauses for a second. There is no room for disappointment today because she is -outside- and there is so much to see. Now that her young eyes finally allow her to make things out better.

Kailey is smiling as she walks slowly along one winding path. Enjoying the sun on her face even though they are both bundled for the chill air. "I -know- he was such a big doggy right?" She talks to Morganna, or Mew as her parents are tending to call her, as they go. She gets raspberry burbling in response. "I know he didn't even stop to acknowledge her highness," Kailey is amusing herself and she knows it. Then she catches sight of familiar faces. Aidan to be specific and Ravn limping away slowly. Her smile and expression brightens and she pushes the stroller that way. "Hey you," She greets the group cheerfully.

The old woman contemplates the bowl, shrugs at Aidan. "I've not decided yet." She watches Ravn depart, makes a slight shooing motion. Yes, off with you, buzzkill folklorist. Leave them to me.

Kailey and the child draw her attention, particularly Morgana. In an odd moment of levity, the fortune teller wiggles her fingers at the little girl. It's over and done in a moment; she's regarding Kip once more, sober as a priest. Well, as sober as a sober one, anyways. "I can read your cards, or the child's," she offers Kailey.

"Rekani." Kip offered to Aidan with a touch of a grin. "He is a DJ and a mechanic." She explained, not seeming to mind at all. Ravn clearly is not, in fact, her boyfriend! She gives Ravn a wave as he departs. "Have a good night, Ravn." She offers to him and then gave a smile to Kailey before focusing on the fortune teller.

"...Sure." She relents finally, walking towards the table after Ignacio has moved from it. She hadn't spotted any tricks or traps or anything. "Let us see what you find out." She pulls a wallet out of her jeans and a picture out of the wallet. She studies it for a moment and then exhales softly and puts it in the bowl. It's a small polaroid of her with her parents and brother. Simpler times, when she was still on good terms with her parents.

Some people might have been offended to be clearly assumed not the boyfriend of the girl standing next to them, but there doesn't seem to be any implied slight in the fact that it doesn't even seem to have occurred to Aidan that Ravn could have been. Maybe he just figures if the guy got a girlfriend, he'd have heard about it already? He probably doesn't threaten leftovers on strangers, after all. ...Probably.

The name mentioned, as it happens, gets a level of extra brightness. "Oh! Dude, I know him. He's awesome, good choice." A flicker of concern flashes across his face when Ravn mentions that steamroller-feeling, but... that will have to wait. His hand lifts in farewell to the Dane, the grin widening at the mention of cannibalism, and he nods. "Later," he agrees, eyes narrowing a touch at the limp as the man heads off. Healing is never fast enough, these days.

But there's a Kailey and a mini-person, and the brilliant smile is back for them, along with another cheerful, "Hey!" of greeting. "Nice day, huh?"

The old woman nods as the picture goes into the bowl. "Ah, speaking of the Eight of Cups," she murmurs. The deck that comes out of her box this time looks almost antiqued: the back is gold with a faded pattern of stars and wisteria vines, bordered by twisted braids. She shuffles it a bit, then pushes the deck across the table to Kip. "Cut, please, and think of what you wish to know. You needn't tell me your question, if you'd rather not."

"It sure is!" Kailey says cheerfully to Aidan as she comes to a stop. Morganna has tilted her head back and is staring up at him with wide green eyes. The kind of green you see in healthy grass, "BAAA!" Is her greeting, sounding very like the goat heard earlier from...somewhere. Only louder and right now. Then her little eyes turn on the fortune teller and she pauses, considering in her baby way the older woman. Possibly the first one she has seen with so many wrinkles. "Abadooobaa," Is the reply to the finger-wiggling while Kailey's eyes turn to the fortune teller with some interest.

"Me or her huh?" Kailey glances down at her daughter who is bouncing a bit for no reason. "I think I'll opt for me, since she has the whole world before her. And what happens to me is likely to effect her anyway," She says before quieting with an abashed look. Putting a hand over her mouth as she realizes she has cut in on Kip's time. So instead she turns to Aidan and asks, "Did you get a reading?"

"BO! Maaaa...naba. MAAA!" Says Mew with enthusiasm to Aidan. Or maybe it's the old lady, her eyes keep going back and forth.

Kip is fully going to put this woman to the test. She was going to think the question hard! She settles into the seat and studies the deck. "How many of these do you have?" She asks curiously. A glance to the box, studying it as if to see how many might even be able to fit in there. Then she exhales softly and cut the deck as she focused on what she wanted to learn. Was it a good idea to stay here in Gray Harbor? Was she making the right choices? Should she keep pursuing her knowledge of the Veil? It was hard to pick just one question to focus on, but the Veil and related things seemed most relevant. She knew she wasn't leaving Gray Harbor any time soon.

"As many as are needed," she tells Kip. She answers Kailey's question, as she hasn't quite pulled the cards yet. "Right you are that a child's fortune often lies with, or is echoed by, the parents'." A slow smile, a little cold and sharp, then she's back to Kip.

The deck's internal art is as antique-looking as the back; it's highly detailed, each card a miniature scene of numerous parts. The first is a mud shack held up by five swords, with a man, using some fine-looking tomes for a backrest, smoking a hookah. It's reversed, however, putting the man descending into hedonism on the top, and the shack beneath him. "The Five of Swords," the fortune teller says. "This man, once learned and, if not rich, certainly with a roof over his head, has descended into sloth. Or, so it appears, though often this card represents the aftermath of battle. We could consider perhaps he's fallen on hard times due to an injury, of the body, of the mind, or of the heart. Whatever the reason," she looks at Kip now, "he's lost his way, left his learning," she touches the backrest of books, "behind him. Abandonned lofty goals for something easier. This card is judgmental of that choice, suggests they do it for selfishness, and not out of a real need. Be it yours, or," she shrugs, "that of someone you know. But be wary--only you can define true need. If you've a goal you've abandonned because it wasn't attainable, rather than do nothing, why not set a new one?"

She turns the next card, which is just as busy as the first. A middle-aged woman in a dress reclines on a sitting chair, her expression wistful. She's surrounded by seven vessels of liquid--one a fine chalice, another a bottle of distilled spirits, still another her own head, with a boat sailing on a lake inside, and so forth. "The Seven of Cups. We've seen this a few times as well." She points at the woman. "You're engaging in wishful thinking, allowing yourself to be lead on flights of fancy. You have many desires, some of them quite fascinating and attainable, but you're not willing to follow through. Easier to think of them than do them." She points at Kip. "Unlike many of the others in this place, you're not too hasty to act. You're hesitant. This is encouraging you to stop thinking about it, and do it."

The last card is a man in classic medieval court dress at a table, with numerous implements before him. Chief among them are one each for the tarot's suits: a sword, a cup, a coin, and a wand. "The Magician." The old woman laughs, soft and raspy. "Of course, the means not your Art. Though I suppose it might mean that. But primarily he's creative, quick thinking, a solver of problems. He's the manifestation of power." She reaches up, almost taps Kip on the chest. Not quite. "Your power. This is, again, a call to act. Be the Magician. Realize your goals. Be resourceful when you're blocked, don't simply stop. Go forward."

She takes up each card and slides it back into the deck, then places the deck in the box.

Kip listens quietly, closely as the woman flipped the cards and explained each one. She tried to keep a straight face but clearly is a little pensive as the discussion goes on. "I...have been waffling on some things..." She admits reluctantly. A soft breath is drawn in and she looks up to the teller. "How did you know?" Still not entirely convinced the fortune teller wasn't bullshitting. But...it hit a little too close to home.

Once the teller gave her answer - satisfactory or not - Kip would rise from her seat. "Thank you for the reading." And flashed a smile to the others. "Have a good night." And then would take off.

"Not yet, but I was kinda thinkin' maybe..." Aidan is probably fairly interesting to a baby, in that coat and all. The baby is clearly interesting to him, as she gets a grin of her very own. "Bo, maaaaaaaa naba," he replies with a nod, as if confirming her claim, and then he considers the woman with the cards again, lightly worrying his lower lip as Kip's reading is given. "I just gotta think of what I got to pay with." No, a bit of his Art is not going to get seriously considered as an option. Definitely not with Ravn's wariness about all this sitting so recently in his mind. He pokes around in his pockets, consideringly, while Kip finishes up and rises. "You too," he says to her as she takes her leave, "Um, and tell Rekani I say hi?" He steps over toward the chair, then pauses, glancing at Kailey and down at Mew in her stroller. "...do you wanna go first so she's not sitting in the cold longer? I don't mind."

Ignacio kicks over to perch with Aidan quietly watching and... well yeah he's texting his dad. It's a lot of feelings but with a tiny grandma says kiddo, go call tu papa? You listen to grandma. Looking up he arches an eyebrow to Kip and says "Well, she's astute. It's...somethin. You leaving? Tell Rekani we said hey. Haven't seen him in a minute." Looking back to Kailey and just warms a grin to the baby. "Heeeeey how's the little troublemaker doing?"

Kailey quirks a brow at the grandmother at those words. Then looked down at Morganna who was busy trying to eat the tray of her stroller. "No no, don't do that," She chides the child and reaches for the bag stowed in the undercarriage netting. From it she pulls a canister of puffy rice things and these are put before the child. Who lets out an excited sound and begins putting them in her mouth. They don't all make it of course. The whole while this has happened she has been eyeing, and side-eyeing, this Aidan person. That coat really draws the eye.

"Cold is actually good for her. Did you know in Finaland they put babies outside to sleep? Bundled up, of course, but they do. It's supposed to be good for the immune system," Kailey says cheerfully at Aidan's concern. "But I can go first if you aren't sure. I'll pay for yours if you like? I just got a commission from some big money lawyer starting his practice and wants some art for his new office. Who am I to say, 'No' to half a grand, right?" She beams for a minute and then rocks up on her toes and back down. Turning her attention to Ignacio she smiles and waves while leaning on the stroller's handle. "She is doing fine and working on more teeth. I have the bite marks to prove it," She says with a little bit of a laugh.

The old woman arches an eyebrow. "How did I know?" She shakes her head, gestures at the box. "The cards know. I simply interpret them." She opens her hands. "You answer the rest for yourself."

And there's another client, running for it! She watches Kip depart. Looks between Aidan and Kailey, waiting. "No money," she says, raising a hand to Kailey. "An item of modest significance to you is the payment. Not something it would wound you to part with, yet not a piece of garbage. A piece of jewelry you fancy but don't love, a lock of your hair," her eyes travel to Aidan, "or a bit of your Art, perhaps."

"I didn't know that, nah," Aidan says, and clearly this is an interesting fact to be tucked away somewhere. Maybe for if he has a kid someday? Probably not, though. "...and thanks, but she doesn't-- yeah, not cash. I think prolly you can't actually pay for someone else for this anyhow." A smaller smile. "Thanks for the offer, though. And congrats, too." He leans down a little and adds to Mew, "Congrats on the teeth, too. Keep it up, you wanna get a whole practice set going there."

If it is fine for her to be staying out a bit more in this, though -- well, then Aidan's going to go ahead and finish taking that chair, this time. He digs into his pocket again and comes up with a stretchy hair tie, the sort that's big enough to be more of a headband than a ponytail holder. Probably handy for all those curls if it gets really windy, or maybe for keeping them down somewhat for hat purposes, though he seems to be doing fine hatwise without it right now. It gets a moment's consideration, then a nod, and he settles it into the bowl, gently twisted. "Is that okay? I mean, I think it counts..."

Ignacio looks at the kiddo making goofy little faces at her and waving to entertain the little podling. There's a looks of amused sympathy for Kailey, "I'll trust you and tell my sister she's got a lot to look forward to." He looks to Aidan and gives him a serious look warning, "I swear if you waste this opportunity to ask what we should do for lunch I'm gonna push you out of your chair. " IT's in good nature but the other half of the care bare stare can handle some ribbing.

Those soft soft curls. Kailey isn't staring at them or anything as Aidan hands over the headband. She's thinking about what it is she has on to offer to the woman. Certainly she is hesitant in the extreme. After all, she knows that items carry memories and connections to their owner. And she has watched far too much Supernatural and Charmed to give bodily bits up. But a trinket or something? While Aidan sits for his cards she nibbles her lower lip. Then she pulls out her almost-full coffee card and kind of fingers it with hesitation. She had finally filled it up today too. Maybe this was why? Would the lady like an uber mocha supreme with cinnamon sprinkle or was she more the Earl Gray, Hot type?

Morganna, meanwhile, is being entertained with faces by other adults. She smiles big and gummy at Aidan and then Ignacio, giving a high-pitched squeal. Showing off the half-mushy rice-puffs in her mouth. Some day she will learn the great mischief of 'See Food', but for now she is just getting attention and awesome apple rice crisps and mom is here and the world is good. It would only be better if dad was there, but that's the cost of being daddy's princess. "AH! AH! AH. Aaaaaaaah," Today she sees to be practicing her 'A's. Then comes the raspberry and lip blowing and that is a -lot- of slobber. She'd give a dog a run for it's money right now. That must be what the bib is for. Which just so happens to state that she is, in fact, Daddy's Princess.

The fortune teller is...charmed? Fascinated? By Morgana. Maybe just interested. She doesn't look at her the way she does the others. But then Aidan offers up his payment: a humble hairloop. ...with a strand of that curly, dark hair caught on it.

"It works fine," she assures Aidan, pulling a deck from her box. It has a deceptively simple card back: an ink sketch of two birds at angles to one another. Quite plain, compared to some of the others. She shuffles a handful of times, offers the deck to him. "Cut, and think of what you wish to know. You needn't tell me what it is, but you can, if you like."

Aidan laughs at Ignacio's threat. "Maybe I won't tell you what I ask, and just let you guess whether I did based on how good lunch turns out to be," he... does that count as 'threatens'? Probably not, really. Mew gets another grin for her general baby-ness, and then he's being handed the cards. He accepts the deck, and studies the back of it for a moment before cutting it carefully and with a little bit of ceremony, a bit of respect for the cards even if they're not the format he works with himself. "Okay?" he asks, returning them, and watching for the next step.

Kailey sets the brakes on the stroller and leans lightly against the handle bar. Keeping an eye on Mew as she goes through her rice puff snacks. And there is more when she is done. Even as the baby turns to look up at her mother she is dumping another little handful onto the tray. A few have blown off in a stray breeze. No doubt making the pigeons happy. "Well don't go to Applebee's if you want good anywhere near food," Kailey interjects into the conversation with a smirk. "Unless you like it, of course...but gives me the runs anything I've eaten there."

So, Joe looks awful. He's tired and gray and moving like he hurts - he's even got that blue metal cane. But he's out in the open air and walking at a decent pace, even if he's bundled up in greatcoat and watch cap and fingerless gloves in shades of oceanic blue. On the lapel of the coat gleams a pair of enamel pins: the Little Prince and his Rose. Even if cold air makes his newest wound ache, it's worth it....and he starts stumping in the direction of the card reader, blue eyes alight with curiosity.

The old woman meets Aidan's eyes squarely. "Why tell him at all? See how many lunches you can get from him." And so, she turns the first card.

Like the deck used for Atli, this one is watercolor, all bright and intricate images. Its details are finer, its theme more explicitly that of the Fae; the faces are elfin, the setting is whimsical. It's not childish, though; this is a sort of whimsey balanced on the edge of horror, sweet loveliness hand in hand with razor sharp edges and things lurking with hungry mouths and great teeth.

The first card is a woman in a hi-lo cut dress of red, a bright orange flower sprouting from her head, a tatooed (or painted?) cat behind her. She stands in an open spot of a field of wildflowers. "The Queen of Wands," the fortune teller says, smiling. She glances at that hair tie in the bowl, back to Aidan. "A confident woman, charismatic and strong. She's enthusiastic--sometimes too much so, but she means no ill by it. A wild woman, in her way." Coyly, turning over the other card, she says, "Someone you know...perhaps..."

The next features a figure in a green cloak embroidered with snakes, stealing away with four swords in hand. Three more attempt to strike at him from above--and perhaps they will, for the card is upside down. "The Seven of Swords. Reversed, in this case." She taps her chin. "This is about an attempt at stealth, at trickery, gone awry. A failure of deception which may," a nail taps the three incoming swords, "end quite poorly. Or, it could mean you're faced with a difficult and delicate proposition, yet like some of your peers," Kip, she probably means, "lack the nerve to see it through." She studies him. "Either could be true, in your case, I think. Have care, if it's the former. Whomever you're wanting to pull one past, they're watching."

The final card is also reversed: a young man, boldly dressed in mismatched pantaloons of stripes and dots, a crazy hat on his head, a sword in his hand. He's determined, fierce, cunning. ...and reversed. "The Page of Swords. See how eager he is for the fight, despite tumbling ass over teakettle. He's irrational and reckless this way. If he had proper footing, oh, what an adversary he'd be." She looks at Aidan. "But no--apathy has set in, and he trying to shove it off with all the wrong methods, and coming up quite short."

She lets the cards sit between them. Her eyes rest on the Queen some time. Then, "Since she left, you've been adrift. Wavering, unsure when or how to act. And when you do," she looks to the page, "it can seem unplanned, and," the thief, "quite poorly. So often you don't. Waiting." Now she looks at Aidan. "You must come to terms with her, before you can set the thief and the page to rights."

She sets to picking up the cards, glances to Kailey. "Now then, young mother Kailey, daughter Morgana. Come, let's see what we have for you."

The inherent need for it in magic tricks aside, deception isn't really something Aidan turns to often -- and he doesn't seem to be focusing on doing so right now, either. He's paying quite close attention, both to the cards and the explanation given, and mostly looks... confused. Not disappointed, nor doubting, but definitely confused, and more so as things go on. "Is it... do they ever decide someone's thinking about the wrong question and answer something else?" he asks after a moment, studying one card, then the next, and then the third. The description of the first, at the very least, has definitely hit home, if apparently not in the realm he expected; the second and third may need more thought, on whichever topic of focus. What was the earlier remark, tools for introspection?

He blinks once, realising he's still filling the chair and holding things up. "Uh, sorry. Thanks." Standing, he shifts the chair to make it easy for Kailey to take the seat, and steps away toward Ignacio, still clearly puzzling things out. One thing, at least, is clear enough to aim for, though, as he adjusts the folding-table-carrier on his shoulder and addresses the Spaniard: "...lunch?"

Both brows go up as Kailey looks at the fortune teller for a very long moment. Then she frowns slightly and tilts her head. Glancing down at Morganna as the baby continues to enjoy her snack. Oblivious, at the moment, to her mother's worry. That only has the young mother flicking the punch card between her fingers thoughtfully. Like one might with a coin, rolling it through their fingers. Finally she reaches out and drops it in there, before moving around the stroller and leaning down to kiss Mew on the head. She smiles faintly at Aidan when he stands up. "Enjoy lunch you two," And she means in. Then her eyes return to the crone as she settles into her seat. "So how is it you know our names?" Asks the young woman in a pleasant tone, though the suspicion is plain on her face.

The sailor makes no secret of the fact that he's leaning on his cane, both hands. But there's no expression of skepticism on the long face, only pleasant interest. Standing close, but not so close as to crowd....but definitely listening, head a little cocked as if to favor a bad ear.

The fortune teller cranes her neck, watching the card go in. Oh yes, she's interested in it. What will she get--one of those hilariously over-sugared frappe things? A simple chai? jamaican Blue Mountain, if it's available? Hard to say.

Eyes gradually returning to Kailey, she says, "When you're as old as I am, names come to you easily." She shuffles the cute little deck a few more times, pushes it to Kailey. "Cut, and think of what you'd like to know. You can tell me, if you wish, but it's not required."

Kailey's lips quirk in a smirk that shows she doesn't quite believe the woman. 'Age indeed,' Her expression seems to say as she eyes the deck. Then begins an intricate cutting. Four stacks with the fourth the smallest and placed below the other middle one. Then she restacks them and cuts it again, this time in a diamond shape, which she leaves for the fortune teller to finish. There are numerous questions in her mind. People too; Everett and Bean and Quinten and Morganna. Her friends too, but mostly those four. The question settles in her mind rather quickly from the numerous options. "What does the future hold for my family?"

(Besides Nightmares and Dreams, of course,) O o . Kailey thinks as she leans back in the seat and looks over at Morganna with a smile. The baby coos and slams her little hands happily against the stroller tray. All those puffed rice are pretty much gone in some way or another. She'll find one later in the diaper that will have her wondering what kind of good gymnastics had to happen there, what with Mew in a full on sleeper onesie. Green with yellow ducks and frogs all over it made of fleece, and the footed bottoms of it are a frog and a duckling each. Cute. And of course the bib which is already a mess and very moist.

Joe's simply found a bench to sit on, huddled down like an old owl on a branch. This getting aging thing is for the birds. But he looks contented enough, sitting in the watery winter sunshine filtering through a break in the clouds...and watching Kailey gets her cards read.

Lilith needs outside in some capacity, for both her sanity and her health. She says as much while walking next to Byron and their leashed dog in the park on this rare sunlit winter day, "We haven't even eaten anything from a food stall yet and... I think I already feel better. I can feel myself soaking up Vitamin D and powering up." And while the brunette woman may be a bit energetic for someone recently laid flat by a single ill-gotten bullet, she's admittedly a little faint of breath with her words while talking and walking. But it's been long enough, walking around is probably due.

She's wearing a pair of leggings and a red and white blouse-sweater combo with high-laced winter calf boots. Most of that is wrapped in her winter tailored coat and she's neglected gloves, scarf, and cap because she's winter-style sunbathing, you see. Or at least, that's what Byron was told about it. She has at least relinquished hold of the leash on the off chance the large white shepherd dog lunges and pulls her while her body is still healing.

For now, they're a ways off by the food stalls while Lilith browses and decides and walks around, but she's distracted by the view of those getting readings, "What's that over there?"

A thug walks into a park.
Not the start of a joke, but as Everett pauses a few paces within the park proper, a scowl on his lips. Fishing inside the left of his leather jacket with his right hand, he takes out a white and red cigarette package, smacks it against his other hand once, then twice. Until the butt of a cigarette appears. Lifting his gaze while he puts the smoke to his lips then tucks the packet inside, his big right paw reaches into his jeans pocket, pulling free a chrome lighter. He shields the flame with his faded tattoo hand, a couple of puffs, then the zippo is closed and tucked back into his pocket before the cancer stick is pull from his lips, flicked with his thumb, his eyes searching around while keeping his resting-hoodlum-face on.

Byron had mentioned the fortune telling to Lilith on one of the days that she was laid out on a hospital bed, but she was far too injured to journey outside then and the moment had passed. Unfortunately, for the pair, by the time of Lilith's release there was no such thing to be found. Though, in truth, they probably forgot about all about it! So seeing the fortune teller set up in the park once more helps to jog the man's memory.

Wearing a suit and tie beneath a heavy wool coat, he has one gloved hand placed at the small of Lilith's back as they take this little stroll through the park. The other grasped tightly on Sirius' leash. While the German Shepherd was a well-trained pup, he was a pup. And there things in town that might over-excite him or cause aggression of sorts. This was Gray Harbor. Letting Lilith look at the menu at the food stand, the man's dark eyes were somewhat fixated on the woman doing the fortune telling. Why did she look so familiar? There's a furrow of his brow as he tries to remember. He /did/ see her a week ago, when he passed by with Lilith's things, bringing them for her at the hospital. Maybe that's...

The brunette with the bright blue eyes breaks him away from his thoughts when she makes her inquiry. Now, it's his turn to look up at the menu, hurriedly, having wasted time in his ponderings. "Oh that? She's the fortune teller, I told you about last week." He then asks, "What do you feel like eating? Order anything on the menu. Twice over if you want. You're being treated for not escaping Addington Memorial early like you tend to do."

Kailey's hands shake as she sets the last card down. Then she feels something weird on her lip. Reaching up she swipes and there is a bit of blood dribbling from her nose. Not prone to nose bleeds this surprises her and she looks from her blood up to the crone. There is a moment of fear before a steel wall falls and her expression becomes taught. Watching this strange woman's every mood like some sort of steely statue. Eyes tracking those fingers and each card turn, studying each card with care for the minor symbols others might miss.

Meanwhile there is a Not-Cinder dog again and Morganna lets out a delighted squeal when she spots him. Banging on her stroller tray and bouncing in her seat. A big happy smile with just her front teeth, so far, is shown to the big dog. "AhahahaHA! BAk! BAK BAK!" She almost sounds like she is barking, except not quite. Something is off about the sound. Maybe because their dog is deaf? Or maybe because she's a baby and she isn't exactly trying to bark.

Does the old woman notice that Kailey tried to read the cards? The private smile she gives her seems to suggest so. But she makes no remark on it, simply gets to what they've agreed to.

It shouldn't be a surprise what greets Kailey when the fortune teller begins to flip the cards: playful characters, clean lines, bright, cheerful colors. The first card is a white dog with floppy black ears in a red TEAM tee, holding up a trophy in one hand, and a hockey stick in the other, jumping for joy. Numerous other little animals are celebrating with him, and a glorious sun sits in the background.

"The Six of Wands." The old woman coughs a laugh. "So many wands in this place..." She shakes her head, continues, "This is a card of victory. Success in your accomplishments--even a great one." She indicates the trophy with a gesture, glances briefly at Morgana. "And of recognition for those things. This is growing your self-confidence, making you stronger. You've done well, here."

The next card is a pair of...probably frogs, each holding a little golden cup. A yin and yang symbol sits in the sky above them. "The Two of Cups. This is a card not just of lovers, though obviously," another glance at Morgana, then Kailey, "that's a reasonable assumption. It also represents partnerships, friendships. Being there for one another, and sharing in one another's lives. You've found someone, or a few someones, like this, and are benefitting from that connection."

The last card is a little darker colored than the others; a large, crescent moon hangs in the background, with a lobster, claws splayed in a panic, on a rock, and a cheerful puppy in the foreground. "The Moon." The old woman traces a finger around the moon...the the yin/yang...then the sun. "I'm seeing a pattern here. See the sun here, in the Six? Then the balanced Yin Yang, in the Two. Now a crescent moon." She raises her eyes to Kailey's. "Your life is transitioning. A new moon, or eclipse will be upon you soon. You can feel it," she taps the panicked lobster, "even as you try to remain positive," now the dog. "Your anxieties stir as you feel the shift of your fortunes." The old woman shakes her head, touches the Two of Cups. "Hold fast to this. Let it be your life boat in such times. All of us pass through the darkness; what matters, is where we seek the light."

She begins to pick the cards up, glances at the new arrivals. Her gaze lingers on Byron, amused, returns to Kailey. "Thank you for the card, my dear, it won't go unused."

He's been contemplating his phone, for a little bit....but when he looks up, Joe offers a lifted hand to Byron and Lilith. Clearly the worse for wear after the whole shoot-out; he looks gray and weary, his years sitting heavily on him, for once.

Then he's levering himself up from his seat - he's got a cane made of some shining blue metal, and rises to go take his turn with the card reader.

"Funnel cake, whipped cream, powdered sugar, strawberries. Except I want a pretzel too. Because salt. Basically, I want to make myself sick with a ball of salt, sugar, and dough in my stomach and enjoy every moment. Also a Coke because that stall has the real-sugar-kind in the bottles. They have coffee, though, too." Lilith is pretty damn decisive so Byron might not have to be, her eyes are no doubt bigger than her stomach today with the general mood she's in. Tacking on, she says, "We have to take a bag of cotton candy home too. I think... they have some over..."

Distracted by Joe's wave, Lilith smiles some and waves back familiarly before watching the man move toward taking his turn in the distance. After a moment, she wonders of Byron, "Do you want to wait to eat, though and ah. Okay. This sounds like a bad question, but I'm sure it's fine-- do you want to get fortunes told?"

Continuing to smoke his cigarette, Everett gives the pair with the dog a suspicious side-ways glance, long enough to take a second puff from his cigarette. When the squeal emanates from the stroller, he turns his gaze that way.
It doesn't take him long to recognize the source of the screech, nor the parent pushing the pram.
Or to flick the lit cigarette over his shoulder like it burnt him, disassociating himself from it as quickly as possible, his eyes suddenly wide with surprise for a moment. Leaving his post at the park, the giant takes long strides towards the stroller, making no attempts to sneak up on Kailey as he sticks his recently smoke holding fore-finger into the small of her back and murmurs, "Your kid or your lips," down to her. Without pause, dipping his head to plant a quick, soft kiss on Kailey's neck.

It might be Joe's turn to have his fortune told, but it was Byron and Lilith's turn at the front of the junk food line. He does notice Joseph on passing, however, upnodding in the other man's direction and flashing him some kind of smile. He also remembers that his tenant was at that final showdown with the rival cartel. It's good to see the guy looking right as rain, if that's a thing.

Using his leash hand, he digs into his pocket for his wallet, before flipping through his cash. "Uh, funnel cake with both powdered sugar and whipped cream. With strawberries." He then makes an idle gesture at that glass container holding the giant pretzels, "And one of those pretzels." Then quickly, "And a Coke. Two Cokes." Turning to Lilith, he murmurs, "We can pick up some coffee later along with the... cotton candy." The way that he'd ordered all of this, he's most likely expecting them both to share. She can't eat the whole funnel cake!

Now it was the waiting game for their food. Though there was still something, not entirely unnerving, but odd. When the old woman smiles at him, there was just something weird about that small. By now, food is being shoved into his hands to gather, but from the old woman, he's looking towards the sign. Not really being able to make out what it says from his distance. Not that money was a problem. "We could. I mean, I brought it up last week when I passed by here. Why not? Looking at the interest she's getting, she's getting the locals' attention."

Kailey is pulling out a rag from her pocket, because she actually has a few tucked in every pocket. They are more used for cleaning up baby issues than paint gone awry or a runny nose of her own. Still, handy when your nose is bleeding. And as the cards are red she pinches it with the paint-stained rag. Listening thoughtfully and certainly smiling when Morganna is mentioned, and the two of cups is revealed. Maybe she knows a thing or two about tarot, but the smile vanishes when she sees the moon. As if she understands it's significance. Slowly she nods and then says, nasally, "Tank you. I appreciate it. Enjoy the drink." That part is in earnest as she stands and moves around to Morganna.

There is a DOG mommy! Is what Morganna's excited face seems to say as she looks up at mom and then back at Byron and Lilith. "BAH BAK! Bah bak!" She tells her mother with enthusiasm and another smacking of the tray. Making her chuckled as she flicks the little latch to release the brakes on the stroller.

"Yes, it's a big dog huh? Not like Cinder at -all- is it?" Kailey inquires as she begins her slow walk through the park again. When she does left below and around where the stroller was is a plethora of little rice snacks. Tasty treat for any puppy probably.

"MAAA! BAKBAKBAK!" Morganna is being insistent, leaning as best she can given the five-point harness she is in. There is dog. She must have it. Of course neither she nor her mother has spotted the brooding, smoking figure yet. When Morganna does there will be more happy baby shrieking. And then the big guy is coming right for them. Cue the scream of happiness from baby and the widening of her smile. "Oh, well, lips then?" She says before giggling. "What are you doing here?" It's a casual question. Not at all suspicious. "Were you smoking?" Her nose wrinkles faintly as she sniffs the air.

What could possibly be a bad idea about a random old woman not taking money for fortunes, especially one whose cards just gave Kailey a nosebleed? Nothing, obviously. Look! Joe's going to get his cards read, everyone knows he's the epitome of good judgment.

Or, something...

The fortune teller nods at Kailey, somber and serious. "The only way to survive the storm, is to be the storm." Final bit of advice given, she smiles at Joe on the approach.

"Commander," she says, her voice as auible to him as if she were standing right there. "How do you like your rock? I know it's not a moon rock, but it has the same image as your tattoo." She indicates the Depression glass bowl with a nod. "Have anything to trade? It doesn't have to be so important you can't bear to part with it. Just something of value to you." She pulls a deck from her box, starts shuffling. The backs are a deep maroon, with a gold line art of the four suits of tarot among a pair of moths. "No money," she tells him. "Unless it's rare or uncommon."

He can't help it - Joe startles visibly when he's addressed by his last rank, the blue eyes going wide, his knuckles whitening on his cane. A frozen moment, and then he smiles at the old woman, as if he'd just gotten the joke. It peels years off his face, strips away that look of weary endurance in favor of his usual boyish good nature.

"Matushka," he says, warmly. "Hello. I've heard so much about you, but I was thinkin' I'd have to go lookin' for you. I've kept it in a place of honor....I knew I'd meet you some day." Even as he speaks, he's fishing in his pocket. It's not a true wallet he comes out with, but a little leather pouch....and from it he produces a coin of some silvery alloy. He turns it deftly between his fingertips, making it flash in the low light. "Money from a dead empire, worth nothing save good memories." Not strictly true, but it will do. Then he proffers it to her: a 1 ruble coin. But one side bears the hammer and sickle, and the other the smiling face of the first man to leave the planet.

"Someone is super excited about Sirius and his majestic presence. Understandably so." Lilith comments aside to Byron as he's given food and she reaches to take the drink and the funnel cake to balance between her two free hands. Ticking her head over toward the baby all excited in the stroller, the woman looks at their white shepherd with amusement while he's seated and watching the baby with a sideways cocked head. That or he's eyeing all those rice treats left behind on the ground, it's hard to say.

While they move to a park bench closer to where the fortune teller is set up, though, to sit and eat, the woman considers, "Fortunes, though. I swear, if this gets weird fast, I'm just... leaving. Or something. I don't have it in me today. Sounds tedious." Granted, she is the one that asked him if he wanted to do it, then got wary when he agreed to her 'probably fine' idea, "But seriously, it's just the park and I feel like having a dog with us to stare while we're eating is like... prime protection. He'll never take eyes off of us with food. Brilliant."

Everett does what every man does when confronted with a question about something he wasn't supposed to be doing. Lie.
"Wha? Me?" Even his breath smells like smoke, his Brando-style leather jacket. Finger-tips from his right hand touch over his sternum, spread lightly while he pauses, for thought, for distracting, looking down at his daughter, squealing for his attention. "Wha-I. Why would I ever?"

Crouching down, long since mastered the restraints on the baby, Everett sets the baby free, only to pick her up, and hold her close. "Me? I'm just, you know, trying to freeze my balls off," he says, mostly to Morganna before tucking into the baby's neck and noisily nibbling on her neck. "Um-nomnom." Pulling his head back, he combs his long hair back with his left hand and turns his gaze back down to Kailey. "Whatcha doing here?" There's a jerk of his head to the crone, "You don't believe in that voodoo too do you?" he asks with a small smirk spreading the right line of his lips long, contented with his word choice. And distraction.

"Aaaaah, quite perfect." The old woman smiles at the coin, looks up at Joe. Her approval is plain; she gestures at the bowl. "If you would, and we'll get started." Inside Joe can see a variety of things; among them, Kailey's recently added Starbuck's card, a hair loop with a single strand of curly, dark hair on it, and...a purple heart medal...?

She pushes the deck across to Joe. "Cut, and think of what you wish the cards to reveal. I don't need to know what it is, unless you wish me to seek explicitly for something." In an aside to Everett, she says, "This isn't remotely like voodoo. Which is quite effective if performed by a proper practitioner, though I couldn't claim to be one. I've come across a few, in my time--they're not to be trifled with."

Kailey raises one nicely tended to brow at the tall man and her lips form a thin smile. It is clear she is not convinced of any of this. Watching him pull Morganna from the stroller her arms cross and head cants to the side. "Mmmmm..." She makes the non-commital sound deep in her throat. Mew just makes happy cries and then deep giggles at the daddy-nibbles. Hands going for that long black hair as she does. Oh so many giggles from her. There was a dog? What dog. Now there is only nibbles and daddy hair to grab.

Everett doesn't have only small and strong baby hands to deal with, but a finger stabbing him hard in the ribs when he asks his question about the crone. When she herself speaks up the young mother smile slightly and replies, "Yeah. Voodoo is way different. I have a tarot deck myself. Not much good with it, but I have one. So yeah, I believe in fortunes and omens and visions and stuff." Her hands spread and she looks around herself to indicate the whole town, giving Ev a crazy-eye look. "Like...look where we are, dude?" With a snort she shakes her head and hands fall back onto the stroller's handle. "Anyhoooo...It was nice out and I decided to take Mew to the park. Glad I did too. But what are -you- doing here smoking and trying to eat our child?"

The dark-haired businessman is more than grateful when Lilith takes some of their delicious bounty so that he doesn't accidentally drop anything. The baby's excitement doesn't go amiss for him either, flashing Morganna with a genuinely friendly smile as he makes his way towards the nearest bench, tugging at Sirius' leash as he goes, after the dog begins sniffing at and probably eating some of the fallen treats. His leash is being tugged and from what the white dog can tell, his owners have treats of their own.

Sipping at his straw, even though he's not eating the funnel cake, he's already dusting off his suit and coat of that powdered sugar that gets everywhere. "Give me a bite of that." He says, reaching to tear off a piece, even though he's still holding the pretzel that Lilith wanted as well. "We don't need to have our fortune's told." Byron's not going to force her to do it. All he can do now is spy on Joseph's reading. He might not be able to hear everything said, but he can see the exchange going on between Cavanaugh and the woman. "The woman looks familiar, but I could be wrong."

He's still grinning, unable to help himself, as he deposits the coin gently in her bowl . The inked fingers are deft with the cards, riffling them from hand to hand with the ease of long practice. The smile dwindles to something less brilliant, but Joe's still got that pleased aura.
Then he's handing the cards back to her with a little inclination of his head, eyes gone bright, expectant.

The first card reveals the nature of the deck: oil paintings, lush and vibrant, strong colors in reds and browns and golds. A woman wearing gold rope jewelry, sitting on a satin blanket or duvet, holds four coins in her hand (silver, bronze, gold, platinum). She's carrying a red velvet clutch purse, wearing a matching red dress. The old woman makes a low sound in her throat. "The Four of Coins," she says, almost purring. "Which is a celebration of wealth, as you see--but a celebration by holding on to it. Reassuring yourself that things will be alright if," her blue-gray eyes meet Joe's, "you can maintain control. For that's what this is to you, I think. Control. You're fine with the richness of things, as long as you have yours, and it's yours to command."

The next card is maybe not appropriate for the children. A lush woman, her black hair pulled up into twin pony tails fanned like raven feathers, reclined, naked, against a table. A truly bacchanalian feast transspires in the background. She's sipping wine from a glass; the backside of a naked woman lies beside her, with someone else's arm draped over it. "Temptation," the old woman murmurs. "Known in most other decks as The Devil." She smiles at Joe, knowing and smug. Does she need to explain it? Oh, why not. "The Devil, Temptation, urges you to indulge yourself. It signals enslavement to things you want, having decided they're what you need. The Devil despoils others, but Temptation despoils herself. Sometimes," her eyebrows rise, "at the expense of those she cares for. But in the end, she can't help but care for herself more."

The final card is a rich swath of red jacquard with a variety of odds and ends scattered over it--a single black die, an old key and a newer one, a marble, a button, and a single, alrge, gold coin. "The Ace of Coins." She gives Joe a thoughtful look. "The coins have been rare in my readings here, did you know? Only one other has seen them." She taps the Ace. "As the coins are the suit of material wealth--especially in this deck--so the Ace is their idealization. Unexpected resources is the usual thing which might come to you, though," she frowns, purses her lips. "You're not a poor man, Commander Cavanaugh. I think this doesn't mean material wealth as this world knows it. Perhaps your Art will grow, or...something else." She shrugs. "Or perhaps some new connection. But," she leans forward, taps him on the hand, "it's on you to accept this offer. It's there, like ripe fruit, but it won't fall off the tree for you. Instead of," she touches the Temptress, "indulging yourself all the time, consider getting up and working for what you want." A slight bob of her eyebrows, then she gathers up the cards and places them into he deck.

Not a great deal of reaction, but....things vanishing into deep water may not create a lot of ripples, at first. He looks down at the cards, once more, and then he's pushing himself up from the seat. "Thank you. I hope to see you again, sometime soon," His tone isn't ominous or chagrined....Joe seems sincere. Then he's taking his cane, and heading for the park's entrance, though not without a nod for those he knows.

The old woman dips her head to Joe as he leaves. "Be well, Commander," looks to Lilith, Byron, and Everett, all recent arrivals. She gestures at the bowl in a wordless question.

"You think so? I don't think I notice anything sticking, myself. Maybe all fortune tellers kind of look alike. I can't say my expectations aren't met in this case, she looks the part." Lilith tells Byron, doing him the favor of feeding him the bites of funnel cake while he holds the pretzel. Once she's done the swap bite, she leans in for a bite of the salty pretzel and watches as Joseph is laid out a number of cards.

Sitting a moment and looking at the dog while chewing, she considers a little longer and says, "Let's just do it, we've done far, far worse." Then Lilith takes to happily gorging herself with food, sugar, and caffeine in bulk, taking turns with Byron bites between the two food choices. But eventually, the guy is rising up to take his leave and the brunette gauges him for a moment before going for some napkins, "Should we go? If we go now, you go first? Or we can let the guy over there go first." Her head ticks toward Everett over with Kailey.

He has baby; can't hurt him now. Given the thoughtful noise, Everett's brows rise, his left shoulder, the free shoulder rising as his reply to her disbelief as his head tilts and not of his own volition. With Mew's slimy little rice coated hand pulling on his hair, trying to scalp him, he's no longer in control of his own head.

The world askew, Everett smirks bewitched, "Yeah," he agrees with Kailey's tarot deck. "But when you do it, it's cute." Until there's another baby tug and his jaw drops with a silent cry of pain. Instant Karma. "What else was I going to eat," he asks, reaching up with his left hand so to unpry little fingers from his long hair, "nothing in the carts looked as good as this little meal." Once he's (mostly) free from her baby fingers, both hands are used to lift baby over his head and give her little back-and-forth wiggles. "Daddy's going to eat you! Daddy's going to eat you!" She's lowered back to his mouth for another set of loud neck nibbles, the shaking losing more rice from the folds of Morganna's clothes and to the ground.

Pulling his baby from his mouth, he tucks her back into the crook of his arm, giving the old fortune-teller a look for her insight before he regards Kailey and tilts his head, clearly showing disbelief, but good humor, "Yeah, but. ... c'mon." The incredulous look continues before he adds, "This one time, at Fernandina, a fortune teller told one of my, uh, friends, that he was going to meet the girl of his dreams. They didn't say when or anything. It's like, super vague." He pauses, snapping his free, thick fingers, "like what's that? Talking to people from the other side."

There is loud and delighted shrieks from the baby. The kind that draw attention and then smiles from onlookers. Morganna is a happy baby and no more so than now. Big gummy grin. But Everett is a wise father, ish, now and has learned not to hold the dribbling doombringer over his head like that long. Less that bit hanging from her chin splatter down somewhere unpleasant. Kailey too learned that lesson to much laughter at her expense. But then, Everett got laughed at too. So fair is fair.

But at this point Kailey is giving the man a long look as he keeps evading her question. The happy baby delaying any comment on it. "Yeah there is some vagueness to it. But that sort of stuff is. You know why? Because every action we take changes the future. Knowing even that little bit can vastly alter the outcome, but that is the point. In the knowing you can change the outcome. Of course there are -some- prophecies where the gods are dicks and the prophecy is a trick to get you to do what they want. Or is it the gods?" She pauses with a frown and considers. "Might be the Fates....anyway! The point is she's good and I want you to get your cards read...please?" And there is that smile that she knows will win him over. Almost as good as baby neck or belly. Biting her lower lip as she smiles hopefully at him, brows raised upwards. "You don't have to believe for it to be real ya know."

Boy should he know. He lives in Gray Harbor.

Shaking his head slowly, his eyes on the old woman once again, Byron is trying to remember. "You may be right. She might just have that sort of face." As he speaks, he's absently leaning forward to bite at the funnel cake that she's feeding him, all while holding the giant pretzel out for her consumption. Aww. The dog just sits there, waiting for a piece of food to drop.

After some chewing, he takes another drink of Coke, which feels damned cold on a day like this, before chewing more. He's about to say that he sees no problem with this, but fortune telling was one of those odd things. And Gray Harbor was already an odd place. With Joseph's departure, he watches the happy little family to see if Everette or the baby was going to get their fortune told. He's not sure whether the baby already got theirs.

"Why not. It's not every day that a fortune teller sets up shop in the middle of Addington Park." He's still snacking on things, so it might be a bit longer for him to finish, dust his hands off and head on over.

"What could it hurt, if you don't believe in it," the old woman adds to Kailey's comment about belief and reality. "After all, they're just cards." She sets a hand on the edge of the bowl. "No money, though, unless it's rare or otherwise valuable. An item of importance to you, if not of great importance. Something you'll maybe miss, when you manage to think about it."

\You don't hold a squirming, squealing baby over your face without wondering why its raining inside five times before finally figuring it out and not doing that again. Or a couple more times after. Offering Everett'ss empty hand to baby so her sticky fingers have something other than his long hair to grab, his attention returns to Kailey as he looks dubious but deeply amused by her speech only interrupting once to offer, "Gods?" with a deeply skeptical tone.
But she's right. God(s) damn it.

He's all about set not to give in, or have his cards read until that bottom lip is bitten. Then from his throat erupts a deeply put upon rumble while his green eyes hood partially. With a long inhalation, he rolls his eyes, already the sign of giving in, "Ffff-fine," he rumbles with his deep voice in sing-song fashion. The babies fingers holding his are wiggled with he looks down and moves his hand to tickle her tummy, "Mommy thinks she's so clever." Whatever it takes to throw the question of his smoking out of her mind. The old woman's words don't hurt, until she gets to the payment, or lack there of. That causes the giant to pause and frown suspiciously.
He gives a chortle, the looks to Kailey with a side-ways glance, and starts to hand over the baby.

If only for a second, maybe just to make Kailey nervous. Then he takes the baby back, "I dunno. I don't really got anything like that," the reluctant customer offers. There's another look at the baby, then he gives the future teller another look, brows raised. A second offer.

"Give her your pack of cigs. I think that would work?" Kailey offers with spritely sweet and innocence. She even blinks her pretty green eyes twice. As Morganna is offered she leans in to give the baby a big kiss on the forehead, "MmMmmmmMMmmwah! Mama looooves you," She says before straightening to glances at the fortune teller in a meaningful way and then back.

The fortune teller is, indeed, entirely willing to accept the child, or seems not the least put out by the offer--but as expected, he's not serious with it. She gives him a droll look. "Nothing? Why, a lock of your hair would be sufficient. Or a bit of your Art, perhaps..." She glances at the cigarettes, shrugs. "As expensive as those are, that should qualify, should the pack be half full or more."

Kailey's given a look, one poisonous but fleeting in its nature even when confronted with those fluttering greens of hers. He looks around and then back when he murmurs, "I know where you sleep." His expression changes to outrage even if it, too, isn't long lived. First Sampson, now him. "MY HAIR!? F--", he begins to say before remembering the bundle in his arms.

But the other suggests invoke less irritation, "I'm not an artist, but I haven't counted how many I've had." Turning his torso, he offers Mew back to mother, "Here. You started this," not meaning the infant, and then goes back inside his jacket once his mitts are free, extracting the open white and red pack of Marlboros. He drops them before the old woman dismissively, and with a thud. It was very nearly a pack half-used. "Need a light, too?"

The old woman is unfazed by the outburst, maybe even amused by it. After all, Everett would be only the second person to properly react to such a request. She takes up the pack, inspecting it, drops it into the bowl. "Fair enough." She pulls a deck from her box, shuffles it a handful of times, passes it across to Everett. The back is a dark maroon with diamond patterns filled by crescent moons. "Cut. And shuffle some, if you like. Think of what you'd like to know, if anything."

Kailey does indeed take the babe back from Everett. Smiling and making quick happy small talk when she does. Morganna is happy to see mom again, of course, but her head turns to peer back at her daddy. Leaning back even as her strong little hands put a death grip on Kailey's shirt. "I'm good at starting things," She tells him chipperly once she is done googooing at the babe. Both of them then watch as the big man plunks down for his reading. "Don't sulk," Kailey tells him with a smirk even as she absently bounces Mew on her hip.

Looking from old woman, to cards, to young woman, Everett purses his lips as he considers the cards again, "It's my birthday, and I'll sulk if I want to." He glances to the left, across the old card table while he thinks of what he ought to be thinking of. Can you smell the burning, hear the gnashing of the gear's teeth, or see the thick, inky smoke pouring out his ears.

From his throat he makes a sound, thoughtful, if not annoyed, and then reaches out with his right hand and cuts the deck by taking the top card off and placing it on the deck's right. Because he thinks himself clever. Aidan does magic tricks like this on the Boardwalk during the summer. This has to be no different. Looking up to the charlatan, Everett nods, "Ok."

The deck is an odd artistic style, though clearly Marseille; the colors are many, though muted, and the art somewhat odd and grostesque in places. The first image is a man with a cane, gasping in surprise as lightning from a cloud overhead strikes a tree and sets it ablaze. Strange, pig-chicken, chimeric animals flee in terror. "Il Fulmine, often known as the Tower." Her mouth flattens. "This is a card often assumed to bode ill...and, it can," she waves at it with a hand, indicating the whole card, "for see the calamity unfolding. However," she taps the fire atop the tree, "it can also imply illumination. A sudden epiphany, clothed in a disastrous situation, perhaps." She considers him. "This might have recently passed you by, or you may be approaching it. Tread caustiously."

The next card shows a sort of demon lady, her skin dark ochre and her head crowned in white horns. She's carrying a large scepter that looks like some manner of plant or wand topped with a flower. "Regina di Bastoni, the Queen of Wands." She looks at Kailey, then Everett. "This is, at least to me, somewhat obvious. She at least one of, if not more than one, of the women in your life. The Queen of Wands is a creative woman, her symbols are fire and the sun. She might not lead in the traditional sense of management or," the old woman waves a hand dismissively, "other things society feels are leadership, but still, she leads. She's confident, when she chooses to me, and quite social. Perhaps this," she indicates the blazing tree, "indicates a pending concern for you in their regard."

The next card is a series of staves not unlike the Queen's sceptre, six crossed in two sets of three, and a seventh down the middle. "The Seven of Wands," she says. "A card of perservence and challege. It calls you to protect," she draws a finger down the single staff against the other six, "to fight back in the face of overwhelming odds." Her eyes move over the cards, back to Everett. "You've a trying time ahead of you, I think." She includes Morganna and Kailey in that with a glance. "Tread carefully, in this town where belief isn't needed to make things real."

She slides the cards back into the deck, pauses a moment. "Ah, I see, you thought you could get something different. Well, let's see what you wanted to avoid..." She splits the deck, deftly finds the card that vanished into the middle. It's...the same card as the last one she described? No. This one has nine staves, in two sets of four, against a single one. The old woman laughs. "A similar card, in fact. The Nine of Wands, like it's counterpart the Seven, is another card of challenge. This fight is more pitched against you, though, and requires even more resilience. It's a test of faith."

The deck goes back into the box. She looks to Byron and Lilith, patient.

At the appearance of the first card, Everett nods at it, and opens his mouth as though he were about to say something, but lets the woman weave her spell instead. And as she does, he doesn't look like he's been made a believer. For all the bravado it took to get him here, he is at least polite enough to let her finish to the next card.

Seeing the demon lady, he can't help himself, "Oh, shit, I'm in for a hot date," he murmurs to himself while he straightens his spine to stand erect before the card. "Hello, Regina." His suspicious is, at least on a surface level, confirmed and when the fortune-teller looks towards Kailey, he does too. And waggles his brows. "So creative," murmurs Everett at Kailey with an affectionate leer which he holds for a moment before his lecherousness tones down some, and he reaches out to squeeze and wiggle a Morganna toe, "Or maybe she means you, the next President of the United States, huh?"

The next card seems like a bit of a no-brainer to Everett when he turns his attention back to the card table to look at it. He does look the way he looks, and his head bobs two and a half times. And then he falls into the trap; a woman whom he protects with potential calamity. "Bean?" he makes a face of distaste when he says the name.
He's thus looking forward, frowning when he gets another, bonus level card, and it brings his attention back down with a sound from his neck. This card doesn't help any, and after a moment he murmurs brushing the whole thing off with a wave of his left hand, "Nonsense." He turns to his little girls, and holds his hands out for the one still in diapers and makes grabby hands, "Gimme, gimme, gimme."

Lilith glances aside at Byron once Everett has finished up with the fortune teller, having taken time to walk some of the things over to the trash can in the meantime. Rubbing the pad of her thumb over the man's bristled beard to clear up some powdered sugar dusting that's left over, the woman smiles a bit fondly and lopsided, "Is it bad form if I go wondering about whether or not we're really 'til death do us part' these days?" She's possibly joking and might not want to know or tempt fates that way, in truth-- she kind of drops her voice when she makes the semi-morbid tease of question.

Then they're on their way and stepping forward, and as she said before, she totally wants Byron to go first. Her body sways a little with nudge into him before her hand goes down atop the dog's head where he's leashed at their legs, looking at the woman up close. Then she tries on something that passes for a smile, "Hello. We would like our fortunes told. He'll go first." If Lilith was truly concerned this was about to go awry, she probably wouldn't be throwing him under the bus like that... but for a beat, she looks to be having second thoughts about volunteering him as fodder first to see what it's like.

Once they're done eating, Byron's gaze trails behind Lilith when she tosses out the trash from the comfort of his seat. He graces her with a warming smile on her return; one that widens when she tries to get the powder out of his beard. It's only then that he stands, just as the tall guy finishes his turn. "I'm not even sure a psychic could answer that one for you, but go on ahead and ask when you like." He practically regrets telling her that once the words escape his lips.

As they approach the booth, he's looking for a sign with the fee printed nice and pretty. Unfortunately, there is none to be found. But then Lilith pipes up and Byron is all winning smiles, "Hi. And it seems like I'm going first." Dark eyes search the table, before they land on the container, before lifting to meet with the gaze of the elder woman, his eyes hardening as he tries to sort out where he'd seen her before, "Is this where we deposit the fee?"

Kailey rolls her eyes and almost seems like she might smack Everett upside the back of his head. But she restrains and instead gives him a little shove with her fingertips. Eyeing him as if to say, "Be nice." Even as she listens and nods along. "Yuuuup. That sounds 'bout right. She gonna bury her head so deep running from this stuff she's gonna fall in. I'm tellin' ya..." Head shaking she passes the baby back. Then turns to the fortune teller with a smile and says, "Thank you so much." Before turning back to the oncoming couple. They get a warm smile and she waves, "Hi!" But it's one of those passing greetings. Or it could be, depending on their reply.

The fortune teller isn't the least concerned over Everett's lack of belief. She's got his smokes, after all! Belief is his problem now.

There's no printed sign, though the green, Depression glass bowl with its odds and ends does seem to be the likely place one antes up. "Here," she confirms, resting a hand on the edge of the bowl. "No money, unless it's rare. Your society's coin is of little value to me. Something of value to you, though it need not be great value. A small token from a," she cuts a look at Lilith, "person you cherish, or perhaps a simple but replaceable photo you carry with you." She looks between the two of them. "Or a lock of your hair, perhaps."

Re-settling Mew back in his care, Everett takes just a little moment to tug her outfit in place, and then make silly faces at her to keep her entertained, away from his hair and distracted from the dog coming this way. He puts his lips on baby nose and blows making some rather rude farty noises before nibbling on the nibblette of baby nose with lip covered teeth. After Kailey's greeting, Everett jerks his head to his right, no where in particular, "Let's get going? I have to go to the store for..." he pauses, his dark green eyes searching to the left and then right, "uh, nothing in particular."

Lilith eyes the bowl for a moment, then the fortune teller while blinking a couple of times with thought. She's definitely not considering the hair bit for when it's her turn, though, not with the way she suddenly brings a hand up to touch at it protectively. To her, that's as good as handing over DNA or something for someone to do magical identity theft with, this is Gray Harbor, after all. The diamond of her engagement ring from Tiffany's flashes with the movement and it's clear she won't be putting that or her expensive Piaget rose pendant and earrings that were gifts in that bowl.

However. After a glance down at her dog and assuring him, "We won't trade you, don't worry. Too bad we didn't bring the cat, though, hm?" The woman's eyes hang on her other hand there suddenly upon scratching the dog's furry ears, most notably on a sterling silver and onyx vintage ring that she's worn a lot here and there ever since she's been back in town. After stealing aside a glance at Byron, she says, "Okay. I have something in mind. Do you?"

Kailey watches Everett take the baby and then turns around to grab hold of the stroller's handle. It is so much lighter without a baby in it. "Sure, want to go grab something to eat?" She asks cheerfully as she begins to meander towards the parking lot. Though there does happen to be a stop on the way for funnel cake. Which she and Morganna get to enjoy with glee, the former far more. Especially dramatically eating and enjoying the carby and sugary treat. Curse her motherly caloric intake right now. None of that is going anywhere but to baby-food.

No monetary fee? Byron begins to pat down each of his pockets, before reaching in to see what random little knick-knacks he might be carrying on his person. "I wish I'd known this earlier. There's a lot of things that I could've brought to offer." Things that he has more of a negative attachment to than anything. With one hand in his suit pants pocket, just the examples which the woman gives reminds him of something. A sacrifice that he'd made before. If anything, that's what makes him uneasy the most.

Oh look, it seems that Lilith has something in mind. One of those rings that she sometimes wears. Did he have anything in mind? Of course, he didn't! He didn't have anything in mind when he had to give something up to Gohl either. "Not off the top of my head. No." He gives Lilith this questioning look, wondering if she was just trying to pawn off that thing to begin with. He's not the sort of man to carry a lot on his person, even with the pockets. Finally, he pulls out his keys, removing the leather and metal Rolls Royce keyring attached to them all. In truth, it's annoying as hell to remove the individual keys, but he does so, shoving them into his pocket and dropping the thing into the bowl. The Wraith was the first and only luxury car that he'd purchased when in L.A. This keychain came with it. "Good enough?"

"It will suffice." The fortune teller gestures at the rickety chair. It's a wonder the thing hasn't collapsed to the ground. She takes a card deck from the once lovely, now worn, ornate box. The back is simple and elegant: a pattern of blue, daisy-like flowers on a dark field, with a gold diamond design around them. After a few shuffles she offers the deck to Byron. "Cut them, and if you please, you may also shuffle. Think on what you'd like to know, then tell me, if it's your preference."

Lilith reaches over to take the leash from Byron and stands behind the chair and to the side of the man while watching him prepare to cut the deck. There is a bit of a look she gives all the separate keys poked into his pockets, like she's trying to think of something snazzy to replace it with later. But her attention follows the keychain to the bowl, then the man settling before her hand brushes his coat collar, quiet and attentive.

Byron now had a jangle of loose keys in his pocket, something made more evident when he takes a seat on the rickety chair. Unlike Lilith, perhaps, the man has no actual question that he wanted answered. Or... not the sort of questions that he wants to be given to the answer to. He had a lot of questions on his mind, but nothing that he'd ever ask aloud and most of them tied to the Thorne House.

Reaching out, his eyes on the cards, he cuts the deck with some finesse, before gathering them up for a good shuffle, watching the woman as he does so. He'll ask her something generic. Those were always safe. "What do you happening in my future?" It was very vague and could be answered in many ways. Once done, he sets the shuffled cards back down.

The old woman runs a hand along the top card, turns it. The art is austere and elegant, with sparse yet highly detailed images. The first is a woman in a red dress, plungeing from a tall, medieval tower, which has just been struck by lightning. "The Tower." The old woman can't help but glance to Lilith, back to Byron. "The Tower represents a calamity or upheaval, particularly in this deck's style. A larger event or series of them which might not simply be centered on you, and involve others as well. It can also be a sign of awakening, of the chaos which comes with great change. This isn't necessarily disastrous or an ill omen, except that many of us loathe change, and are happy as we are. The Tower warns you against this complacency. Change will strike when you least expect."

The next card is a man in a bear fur coat, complete with the bear's head for a hood. A huntsman sort, with a sword in one hand. He's upside-down, though. "The King of Swords in reverse." The woman licks her lips, glances from Byron to the card. "This is you. This King is a man of great intellect, who cuts through confusion to clarity. Acuity of the mind is his strongest trait." The way she looks at him feels like she's referring to something beyond just 'smarts'. "In reversal, he's a manipulator. He uses his skills regardless of their cost to others. The ends justifies the means to him--not matter what those means might be. And because his power is one of the mind, of perception, he can easily misuse his powers to great effect. This is a warning, Byron Thorne. Do not become this man."

The next card is also upside-down. A may pole, crowned with a garland of flowers, ribbons fluttering, ends in a fan of ten golden chalices. "A second reversed card. So your life is in flux, shifting. Undergoing more change than you might realize." She runs a finger in an arc along the line of cups. "This is the Ten of Cups. Reversed, the abundance this card should indicate spills out, lost. They clatter to the ground. The may pole's ribbons unwind." She sighs, looks to the King. "More of a warning. This is what the King of Swords will reap in his reversal: strained relationships, a disconnect with those he cares for. This isn't a material loss, per se, as the cups are the suit of emotion and the heart. It's an emotional one. And no wonder that the King might lose this--he's not focused on it, only on his power."

She looks up at Byron a moment. "Be careful, Byron Thorne. Great change is coming. Don't allow it to turn you against the things you value."

She slides the cards back into the deck, looks askance at Lilith. "And you, young Lilith Rose? What have you brought me."

Lilith can't help but glance down at Byron while the fortune teller is laying out, displaying, and interpreting the artistic deck of tarot cards on the table to do the reading. Her eyes move from the cards to the man, the man to the cards, then her hand with the sparkling diamond ring on the finger where it rests at his coat collar. There's a twist of her lips in brief bother or uncertain dismay there for a moment, but she's kind of behind him so he can't much see the expression on her face anyway and there's cards to look at.

The dog with them just sits there, but he's turned to look at birds in the park proper, not at the fortune table. After eyeing Byron a moment to make sure he's fine with whatever he's seen or heard, at least outwardly, she starts to pull off the vintage silver and onyx ring from her right hand to drop into the bowl with a clink, "First thing that came in when I took over the shop. I wanted it, repaired it, liked it, kept it for myself as a welcome-home gift. I kind of thought it was a good sign, like framing your first dollar you earn or something? Anyway..."

Drawing in a breath, she prepares to swap seating and cut the deck about 2/3rds the way down when it's time for her to decide how to do that. As for her question, though, she admits, "...I know what I'm afraid to ask and know. I won't say those things aloud. But..." There's a pause, "I think I mostly want to know... will we ever actually leave Gray Harbor? Together?" Obviously they can leave, but... they don't for their own reasons. Sometimes she wonders if there's something in them that needs the dysfunction of their life. She can't explain why they don't pack up and just go some days.

No one but true believers ever expect that these readings were anywhere close to accurate. They might want to be able to find their answers in a deck of cards, but can't these cards be interpreted in so many ways? Byron's seen this play out on countless television shows and movies that he knows what to expect. It's very often doom and gloom and rarely anything positive.

The first card is turned. The Tower. He's seen this one quite often. It's part of that doom and gloom. Studying the image on the card, he might admire the artwork found, if he wasn't so focused on what he sees in the disastrous image. The old woman's explanation doesn't quite set his mind at ease. Not entirely. She speaks of change and some sort of upheaval. Still, the man makes no vocal response to what is told to him, even though his features may become stony and tense.

The second card. King of Swords reserved. He is then told that the King of Swords represented him, the woman going into details about his personality, supposedly. Of course, while he'll agree to some of this... well, he could agree to all of it, even if he might, if accused during normal circumstances, deny the manipulation part. Not only that, the fortune teller calls him by name. Of course, he's a well-known figure in town, but the way that she speaks it...

Then the next card is flipped and this is reserved as well. The Ten of Cups. All in all, he doesn't quite like what he hears when he stares down at all three cars now. It's not hard to tell just by the look which he wears either. Like most, he probably thinks that this was just a fluke. That this fortune couldn't possibly happen to him. But he's a businessman, so despite the gloomy warnings and the woman speaking his name, he offers up a hand for her to shake as he rises to relieve the chair and allow Lilith to take a seat. "...Thank you," A pause, "I'm afraid that I didn't get your name, and as you know mine, I'm at quite the disadvantage." He smiles a little, allowing that friendliness to touch his tone of voice.

As Lilith gets settled, he already had an idea of the kind of question she was planning on asking. But this was not it. Not entirely. Turning to her, he studies her profile, before preparing to move off entirely to allow them both this time.

"You're quite welcome. My name's of no consequence; it would do you no good. Call me Bubbe, if you must call me anything." Her tone is distracted; Lilith's offering a ring with a personal history. This is almost as good as hair.

"Ah, a wonderful trade. The first thing which came into your possession which you made your own, on your own terms, with your own power. More than adequate." The fortune teller, this ancient grandmother who's accepted everything from a pack of cigarettes to a song, dips her head in approval, takes a deck from the box.

This deck's card backs are a diagonal mirror image: a cat sits atop a mystical eye--or is it a sun--with a bramble tree arching over it, and clouds in the sky. On one half, the cat is white, on the other, he's black. He's a ragged, long-eared looking sort of thing, almost...familiar. The edges of the cards are gold gilt.

The woman shuffles a bit, passes the deck to Lilith. She considers the question asked, eyes narrowed. "Mmmm. I feel you may know that answer already, but," she taps the top card, "let's see what this says."

These cards are a riot of color and design. They almost look like collage art, yet there's no sign of paper cutting or the like. The old woman turns the first card: a woman, dressed in red and gold, a sort of abstract tree design behind her. Her face is pale and saturine, and she's crowned, holding a large pentacle in her hands. And like Byron's King of Swords, she's reversed. "The Queen of Pentacles. A woman of wealth and fortune, of domestic comforts. A mother and nurturer, in her way. Not necessarily in a classical sense, for see," she touches the woman's face, "how this one is less kindly faced, more severe." She sighs. "But, she's reversed. In reversal, her kindness is only for herself: she's envious, possessive even, and shallow. She hoards, is jealous of her peers." She winces, apologetic, turns the next card.

This one is a sort of green nymph walking alongside a fox, head held high. She holds a staff formed of a rosebud in one hand, and five more fill the background behind them. "The Six of Wands." The fortune teller frowns. "A positive card, one of success and renown." She bites her lip. "I would think this could imply success in leaving, but, let's see..."

The last card draws a sigh from the old woman. It's the polar opposite of the triumphant nypmh: a warrior in a suit of red and black armor, pierced by ten swords. Black feathers rain down on him; black spikes rise up around him. "The Ten of Swords," the fortune teller says, her voice reverent. "This is the card of personal tragedies. Betrayal, failures monetary and romantic, and," she waves a hand, "all the rest." She's quiet a time, looking along the line of cards. Presently, she shakes her head. "I feel this is best considered 'pride goeth before the fall'." Her tone is matter of fact, though not unkind. "Attempting to leave together will be," she touches the Queen, "for selfish reasons. You'll think you've succeded," now the Six of Wands, "think you've gotten away. But," now the Ten.

She gathers up the cards. "How does the song? 'You can check out any time you like. But you can never leave.'"

Lilith takes a moment to really look at the artwork on the cards while they're being dealt, and while she seems to visually appreciate the look of them, there's a bit of a skeptical look in brief over her features. That mostly comes when Byron steps to give them some space, though, her eyes briefly following him aside. Then there's a long moment where she's dead silent and listening to the interpretation of each of the pictures.

Initially, she seems a bit perplexed-- Lilith can be extremely (obsessively) possessive over Byron, and yeah, she might have a case of resting bitch face here and there, but she's largely grounded in other matters of 'having' and doesn't seem to pay a lot of mind to what others have to go competing over. At least, for now. There's nothing saying that won't change, or even that the Queen even represents her, right? Anyway, she's far more interested in what comes next and maybe the connection of how it all links. She seems to be concentrating like she's sitting and working out a puzzle with the cards and her eyes while the fortune teller talks.

"... Yeah. That song. I think I can see how that works." If Lilith is particularly bothered by that Ten with the Deadly Sword Stabbing of Life-Fuckery, it's not showing. In fact, she probably takes that one in stride more than the others, head nodding as if she really just expected no goddamn less out of her cards, life here sucks sometimes. It's coming up on the holiday where they nearly killed each other last year, at that. Drawing in a breath of hugeness, she turns her head to look at where Byron is and decides, "... Let's try not to run into a bunch of swords, okay? I'll call this a cautionary tale, not an omen."

Her face isn't totally on-board with not thinking it's some kind of omen, though. Her nose kind of screws up a little when she looks on the card spread again before rising up with some slow effort, "... thank you for the cards."

Byron might not want to interfere with Lilith's reading, but he'll loom over her to see how well (or poorly) it goes. She'll feel his hand at her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze when the various cards are flipped over. In the beginning, it didn't seem terribly bad. Perhaps, aside from the jealous possessive card, which has him curious now. However, once the final card is drawn and flipped, that's she might feel that reassuring squeeze. The image on the card itself is unsettling and very much like his Tower, you often see the Ten of Swords on film, often horror. That and Death.

The interpretation given did not fill either of them with feelings of warmth or joy. While he might not come out and say anything about it at this moment, it was quite distressing to hear. "Right. A cautionary tale. Just like my read." Dark eyes peer out at the old woman again, this Bubbe as he helps Lilith out of her seat, lending her his support. Staring down at the cards on the table once more. Well, there wasn't much to do at the moment. Maybe they'll speak to someone about it. Someone with more insight. It's strange, just the mention of the Eagle's song forces him to remember last Valentines Day too... they were in a hotel of sorts.

"Out of curiosity, have you done any positive readings while in town?" He helps to straighten Lilith's coat as he asks this, the pair looking ready to just leave and try not to be bothered with fate and fortunes.

The old woman tucks the deck away, locks the wooden boxes. "You're quite welcome. And..." She has to stop and think. "Yes, at least one." She nods firmly. "So! You're not all sunk yet." She fishes the Starbucks card from the bowl, along with the pack of cigarettes. She glances up at Byron and Lilith, smiles brightly. "Thank you both for your patronage. Do take care."

She proceeds to cajole a young teen into watching her things for a cigarette, promising more if nothing is out of place when she gets back. He finds this a suitable arrangement. For reasons the boy doesn't understand, he keeps up his end of the bargain, and goes home with most of a pack of Marlboros.