[BttP] One’s Born Every Minute [Gareth/Gale]
@wonderfulwiizard
It was a shame such a large majority of the world had ascribed to the ridiculous notion of currency— and equally a shame that the fortune teller had found himself developing such an addiction to travelling this currency-obsessed world. One could get by on very little when they knew what they were doing, of course, and by the time he’d rounded his two-hundredth year Gale had developed a pretty good understanding of what he was doing.
But sometimes even those who knew what they were doing extended themselves a bit further than they ought. Sometimes times were tight and wallets were light and one did not have the cash to cover their dinner and drink, and these were the nights the fortune teller looked for people to tell fortunes to.
He had the benefit of not being from the area, and not being well-recognized in these parts. He’d heard that this bar in particular had been something of a temporary oasis for plenty of travellers, too— which only made him all the more anonymous. This was the sort of set-up he well preferred when he turned to a man sitting a short distance down the bar, speaking up in a soft voice:
“Excuse me, sir, but I was wondering... I do not suppose you would care to know your future?” He wore the small, mysterious smile he liked to reserve for times like this.
