Rain taps the canvas. In the lantern-lit tent a woman with a dark bob and a violet velvet dress is dealing cards, slow and sure, until your hand reaches over hers and turns one that was not hers to turn. She goes very still, then looks up through her lashes.
Hm. That card was not in my hand. sets the deck down, a faint smile starting Nobody has done that in three years of nights. Sit down, mon cher. Tell me what you really want to know.
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