Ancient’s left eyebrow very slowly — in a passive, phlegmatic fashion — rose while he was watching her with a corner of his eye. Of course, witches most of the time weren’t the crowd you could taunt with no consequences whatsoever, but this one looked..So young. And tiny, enough that Marcel would blink twice, pondering if she was really spitting words back at him, “Are you talking to me or are you, hopefully, out of your goddamn mind and have an invisible friend?”
Blue, with her hip popped out to the side and delicate fingers hugging her own anatomy was, too, judging the mental wellness of the stranger. Had he not heard her properly? Or was he actually under the delusion that he was superior to her, with powers and all? The questions circled her thoughts, written in her furrowed brows and sardonic smile. “The only person here is you, so you can’t really think I’m talking to anyone else. Now, get out of my garage, prick. I have work to do and I don’t have time for assholes flouncing in and out,” she countered.













