[You with the beautiful eyes. A stranger’s form practically sweeping into his periphery, blocking his path as Sephiroth crossed this way to avoid the tittering crowd clotted around a bright, dancing bonfire. Sephiroth has no choice but to stop and fix those same cat-eyes on this horned man — another Mirrorbound, he wonders? — though his expression is schooled to look unimpressed.

Or maybe that’s just his default.]

Destiny’s crossroads. [He echoes plainly and also ironically, considering the half-fanned deck of cards waved before him. He can see where this is going.]

And your guidance will come swiftly and very helpfully from these cards. [The slow arch of a brow, faint.] For a price. Am I correct?