Unfortunately, the fortune teller isn't really listening to what Phalanx is saying right now, because she has reached into her deck to find that all of the cards--every single one--is being stained with this dark energy that she doesn't understand. The cards go spilling all over the table as she flicks them away in fear, like she doesn't want to touch whatever is spreading through her tools.
The back of the card that Phalanx touched remains supernaturally untouched--as if this blackness truly is devouring the contents of the cards but not the physical material itself.
"Keep that one," Robin tells them, suddenly leaning in at their shoulder. There's a slight intensity to him, similar to when they first met, where he is unsettled and burning brightly underneath a very heavy layer of self-control. "That's yours. We need it."
"What are you--" The fortune-teller begins a question, standing back from the table, but Robin cuts her off.
"I told you," he says curtly up at her, "We're leaving now."
no subject
The back of the card that Phalanx touched remains supernaturally untouched--as if this blackness truly is devouring the contents of the cards but not the physical material itself.
"Keep that one," Robin tells them, suddenly leaning in at their shoulder. There's a slight intensity to him, similar to when they first met, where he is unsettled and burning brightly underneath a very heavy layer of self-control. "That's yours. We need it."
"What are you--" The fortune-teller begins a question, standing back from the table, but Robin cuts her off.
"I told you," he says curtly up at her, "We're leaving now."