Continued from here │@lifespent
Straker didn’t so much as glance up at the man’s approach, though he could hear the heavy crunch of his footsteps. The next card went down with a slap.
Knight of swords... interesting.
Ah, but he was out of space. He would have to end the reading there. Perhaps a message from the powers that be—or he just needed a bigger table.
“Good evening,” he said at last, looking up from his work to scan the stranger’s face. Or perhaps not such a stranger after all. He’d seen that sort of hopeless look before. Broken, like a machine robbed of its purpose. He looked back down at the card again.
“Or morning, perhaps I should say. This, mon amie, is gris-gris.” He gestured. “It says on the sign. I take it you are unfamiliar with the concept?”