[ The man stands unexpectedly and Stiles stiffens, expression going guarded immediately. He’s always possessed an uncanny instinct for recognizing dangerous people and his gut advises him to exercise extreme caution around this individual. As soon as the curtain drops between them, he’s springing up from the chair with the skittish energy of a prey animal. When the Witch joins him on the opposite side of the booth, he makes no attempt to conceal the assessing sweep of his eyes, noting those straps and the impressive blades holstered there. This man is unusually armed for a mere fortune teller. But the modern material of the outfit provides Stiles with the information he needs: The Witch is undoubtedly a Mirrorbound. ]
Then don’t believe it. [ He shrugs, leaning forward to grab the wooden bowl off the booth table so he can return it to a food stall. ] You’re new, right?
[ Stiles may not have met every established Mirrorbound in the city, but he’s seen most of them in passing or on the network. It makes it easier to identify the newbies. ]
no subject
Then don’t believe it. [ He shrugs, leaning forward to grab the wooden bowl off the booth table so he can return it to a food stall. ] You’re new, right?
[ Stiles may not have met every established Mirrorbound in the city, but he’s seen most of them in passing or on the network. It makes it easier to identify the newbies. ]
Why fortune telling? You do this back home?