But River's so good at being comfortingly normal to strangers!
River brushes one fingertip very lightly over a smooth wooden handle, smiling faintly. She looks rather as if she's stroking a small animal's head, gentle and exploratory.
The shopkeeper is eyeing her rather askance, with the carefully discreet dubiousness of someone trying to decide if he's looking at a serious customer or a time-waster.
The shopkeeper is keeping an eye on them, glancing every few moments at their hands, but most of his attention is on another customer, a skinny man with jittery expansive hand gestures and a clear intention to pay.
The block of wood Bar was nice like that.
She'd meant to look for not suspicious looking medical supplies.
Hunting accouterments the future has devised.
A table of knives stole her attention first.
If she wasn't warned it might steal all her money too.
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River's peering at them, too. Along with the table, the awning, and the empty air.
But mostly, she's peering at Jo.
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Not fun enough that Jo didn't look at the hands or legs of each person who passed.
Especially once that girl was staring at her.
One eye brow raised, Jo stared back.
"In your way?"
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"What is?"
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Jo straightened, gaze briefly touching the knives then going back.
She took two steps back, letting the girl have better access to the table.
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River brushes one fingertip very lightly over a smooth wooden handle, smiling faintly. She looks rather as if she's stroking a small animal's head, gentle and exploratory.
The shopkeeper is eyeing her rather askance, with the carefully discreet dubiousness of someone trying to decide if he's looking at a serious customer or a time-waster.
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And a not kind assumption on her mental capacity.
"Do you like knives?"
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Beat.
"Sometimes."
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The frown didn't form, just hit the edge of her mouth.
"I do."
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The dark velvet, ever so slightly dusty, seems to fascinate her just as much as the weaponry.
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Then something small hitched.
(In the curve of her neck. The strange intimate, vacant eyes.)
Her hands settled at her hips and head tilted, ironic twist to her lips.
"You were there that night."
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Her head turns a little, after a moment; there's a new, more sober focus in her dark eyes.
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Her posture relaxed in a slow wave.
"You gotta a name?"
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The shopkeeper is keeping an eye on them, glancing every few moments at their hands, but most of his attention is on another customer, a skinny man with jittery expansive hand gestures and a clear intention to pay.
"I remember."
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