Lapin kept the rhythm alive, semi-successfully juggling a trio of glossy spheres on the cracked sidewalk—each fumble met with a sharp, theatrical gasp before she recovered with a flourish. Being in the open was hardly her preferred spotlight, but a performer always finds a stage.
“Well, well, what have we here?” she crooned, voice sliding through the air like silk on steel, as passersby gave her a wary berth. “Magic’s my métier—sleight of hand, prophecy, and the occasional theatrics for your dubious pleasure.”
Her gaze landed on a coyote sinner prowling across the street. With a snap, she let the juggling balls drop, two clattered, one escaped to roll off into a gutter, and she darted forward in a graceful hop.
“You, my dear,” she swept one gloved hand toward them, “look as though your life could use a little enchantment! For the not-so-humbling sum of ten bucks, I shall divine your destiny!”
She plunged her hand into the brim of her top hat and produced a crisp deck of playing cards, fanning and shuffling them with seasoned flair as though the sale were already in the bag. “Fortunes told! Fates revealed! And all for a bargain too good to resist!”
*Peyton stares blankly at the stranger, unimpressed. She takes a noisy sip from her almost empty cup of iced tea and scoffs out a chuckle.*
What makes you think I need enchantment? And for that matter, what makes you think I have ten dollars? Peddle your wares elsewhere. -💅🏼
*She continues down the street.*