[Text] / [Location: a cafe in Speares]

[personaldemon]

Does anyone know if transfer of credits can be accomplished from one person to another, here? So far all I have managed is using them at the stores or with the hatches, and as it happens this 'allowance' they give us isn't really adequate.

Where I was from, I offered my services in a consulting capacity, but if I cannot get payment for such here, then that isn't incredibly practical.

....on a similar note, if anybody wishes their tarot read, it appears I'm doing this for free until I figure out a way to return an investment on the deck I just hatched.

If so, I'm at the version of the Café Procope that they have apparently stolen from Paris and transplanted here. It is in the Speares district. I may be found at one of the upstairs balcony tables.

Comments

[personaldemon]

"Good afternoon, Mr. St. John," Jason says with a polite, distant nod. The cards are finally starting to feel a bit more broken in. The waiter has just brought him a fresh cup of coffee; Jason stirs cream into it, the little spoon making a soft silvery noise against the edges of the cup.

"You don't appear sanguine about why you're here."

Sanguine. Ha. Etrigan snickered appreciatively for his wit.

[ownlittleprison]

"Touché, Mister Blood," Mick shoots back, catching one of the Extra waiters on its way downstairs, and orders a small cup of blood before taking a seat opposite his...acquaintance might even be a stretch, but it's a term he's comfortable applying to this entire context.

"Lucky you I'm old and educated enough to know what that even means." He gives Jason a slightly lopsided smirk, then a shrug.

It's not that Jason's wrong. Quite the opposite - he isn't quite...sanguine. But at the same time...he isn't just one of the four temperaments, either. At the best of times, he's a bit of all of them at once.

For a moment he wonders if he's more sanguine/choleric or melancholy/phlegmatic, but it's a tangent for another time.

"To be honest, I'm not sure I have much of a future in a place like this. Now, I know tarot readings aren't just about the future, but...you know."

[personaldemon]

"There are numerous definitions, not all of which have fallen into disuse," Jason answers, and laces his fingers together atop the table.

He nods very slightly at St. John's words, studying the vampire with a calculating look.

"There are also other readings besides past-present-future," he said neutrally. "Perhaps relationship troubles are on your mind, a query about that Special Someone?"

That part was probably just mild trolling.

[ownlittleprison]

Mick is the kind of guy that can somehow make even a facial cringe look good. If you like his particularly longish, pointy sort of features (to each his or her own, and so on).

Relationship troubles... Not his favorite topic of discussion. Like, ever.

"I don't really do relationships with a capital r. Long story short, my ex-wife fucked me over all kinds of ways she could come up with." The fingers of his right hand lift from the armrest for an airy little gesture. "Ruining me to all women henceforth in her own way."

Why no, he isn't bitter at all.

[personaldemon]

Jason only smiled, a distant amused smile. He knows a thing or two about women fucking over one's life.

"No relationship reading, then. Although perhaps you ought consider psychiatric help if you're still so obviously carrying that around."

Okay, yes, definitely trolling.

Jason picks up the deck and shuffles it casually. "Do you have another question, then? Or shall we simply try past, present, and future, and determine whether or not you do have one?"

[ownlittleprison]

Mick lets out a soft but heartfelt laugh. "Oh, don't you start!

"Or do. Go on, live a little, make fun of the awkward guy with the silly First World issues."

He grins, the trolling gliding very easily off him. He's got a few decades of practice, and it's strangely good to be back on familiar ground. Even if it is with a practical stranger, this feels like it's his home turf they're on.

"Why don't we go with the latter, you show me what you got, and maybe I'll have a question for you later."

[personaldemon]

"Is that what I'm doing?" Jason asked mildly, a little bit of morbid humor still lurking at the corners of his eyes.

"Very well, then. A three-card spread for now."

The waiter brought Mick his blood. Etrigan helpfully informed Jason it wasn't real.

No taste, no heart, no pain;
A poor way to fill an empty gut.
The hungry dears seek veins in vain
And find themselves in quite the rut.

I'll keep that in mind.

Jason dealt three cards, face down, and set the rest to one side.

[ownlittleprison]

"It's what it looks and sounds like you're doing." This noted with a hint of laidback amusement lingering in his voice. He leans back in his chair, deciding to go with his own advice: live a little. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"So how does this thing work?"

[personaldemon]

"Appearances can be deceiving, can't they, Mr. St. John," Jason answers.

" 'This thing'? Tarot? Well, Mr. St. John, I draw from a deck of seventy-eight cards each featuring different motifs and symbols, three of them to represent your past, present, and future, and then I make observations about your past, present, and future based on what cards have been drawn and what stories they tell."

His expression is completely straight, only a faint gleam of deadpan humor in his eyes as he reaches for the first card to flip it.

[ownlittleprison]

"Yeah, we've been over that already," he retorts, leaning his temple on his closed fist. Been there, done that, don't want the t-shirt. If he's honest with himself, it isn't just curiosity that had him sit down and agree to a three card spread. It's a touch more complex than that, but ain't it always so.

"See, now I'm almost sorry I asked."

He reaches for the glass of Faux!Blood, not entirely happy to find it's body temperature. You get used to cold, separated blood, and before you know it your dead old palate has lost the taste for hot meals.

Or that's what he keeps telling himself every time he has a sip - just like now, when he can't really pretend it's coffee when it's so obviously not.

[personaldemon]

"A common chorus," Jason says in answer to the dry I'm almost sorry I asked.

He draws three cards, face down, his movements precise and careful. There's no flourish to his actions, no drama... at least, not intentional theatre, at any rate. Merlin had done such. Blaise had done such. He just draws the cards, and sets the deck to one side.

Wordlessly he turns them over, past, present, future. The Lovers, reversed. And the Four of Swords. Finally, the Chariot.

Jason settles his chin on one palm, looking over the cards idly.

"Well," he says after a few seconds, "with what you said regarding your ex-wife, the appearance of the reversed Lovers is hardly surprising."