[ A part of her stops and looks at this man because what in hell could he tell her about her future, truly? Her life is one large mess of time travel, her past self here, halfway wondering if some elderly version won't appear next.
Crossing her arms across her chest, she looks at him. ]
All right. I'll play.
[ Said like someone who doesn't quite believe, although her palm reading, her tea leaves, those had all been frighteningly predictive twenty-five years ago. ]
B because I can't help myself.
Crossing her arms across her chest, she looks at him. ]
All right. I'll play.
[ Said like someone who doesn't quite believe, although her palm reading, her tea leaves, those had all been frighteningly predictive twenty-five years ago. ]