[ It’s the small flashes of magic that draw his attention to begin with, the bright flecks of gold in the otherwise dark and dreary landscape. Emet-Selch finds a nearby wall to lean on, gazing at the woman through the window that leads to her perch on the fire escape. In the darkness of the interior, his eyes glow softly, gaze flicking from the card in her hand back to her.
One shoulder lifts in a lazy shrug. ]
I’ve no need for the services of a fortune-teller.
[ He’s lived far too long to care overmuch about his future. The fact that he now has a future in this godsforsaken place is something he’s still trying to deal with. ]
That, though– [ he mimics her hand motion. ] A bit of magic?
no subject
One shoulder lifts in a lazy shrug. ]
I’ve no need for the services of a fortune-teller.
[ He’s lived far too long to care overmuch about his future. The fact that he now has a future in this godsforsaken place is something he’s still trying to deal with. ]
That, though– [ he mimics her hand motion. ] A bit of magic?