Normally Prue would mind her business and just carry on with her life, ignoring everything else around her. But this... this was too strange to just overlook. “Are you... is that a rifle over your shoulder?” It wasn’t just any rifle either, it looked like a Civil war era rifle and on top of that, the boy’s coat seemed to match that era as well. Could be a convention or something going on, but something in her gut told her otherwise. It told her to run away, just like she ran from everything else. She told that feeling to shut it’s ugly trap and mind it’s own damn business.