The Good (Fashion) Samaritan

November 26, 2016:

Caitlin Fairchild lost her shirt. Thankfully, there's this chatty goth girl to the rescue.

The Streets of Midtown Manhattan

It's the middle of the city, and all of its cheap tourist-trap stores.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Caitlin Fairchild… is a bit distinctive. For one, she's about 6'4" and built like Sofia Loren got seriously into power lifting at one point, with orange-red hair that floats around her like a halo, mussed by recent exertion.

Second, she's walking down the street wearing only a sports bra and jogging pants, both of which look like a deranged tailor went after them with scissors. In New York. In near-winter.

She doesn't seem bothered by the cold, but she does make a beeline for Macy's, but finding it closed for repairs, scowls angrily in the window and starts searching on her phone for another women's clothier nearby.


"Oh my god, are you okay?"

The voice, young and female, comes from a point somewhere behind Caitlin Fairchild, and while Caitlin Fairchild has yet to glimpse the speaker, she would already discern that she couldn't possibly be local - this is New York, where 'have a nice day, asshole!' is a much more common greeting than an expression of genuine concern.

When she turns around, the redhead would glimpse a pair of startling, ice-blue eyes, standing out all the more given the young woman's coloring and the way she is dressed; she is clad in mostly black, but closer inspection would reveal that the pieces she has chosen to create today's ensemble are actually quite fashionable. Her top is an Edwardian-inspired affair, with a square neckline and small ruffles, fitted around a generous bust and loose all the way down to her hips, parted by a slit in the fabric in which the unmistakeable glint of a navel piercing could be seen. A black coat with a large cowl is belted on her narrow waist, reaching mid-thigh and over black skinny jeans with strategic rips tucked into a pair of stiletto boots that boosted her height to five-ten.

Darker than black hair has been gathered in a loose knot, pieces pulled to frame her face - the extreme contrasts in color only makes her look paler, and the pops of more vibrant hues all the more pronounced, like the cherry-red lipstick she has opted to wear.

"Aren't you cold?" she asks, digging into her other shopping bags, another sign that in spite of her unusual fashion choices that the girl knows where to shop, labels from Gucci, Agent Provocateur and Valentino, among others.

She finds a length of black cashmere, which Caitlin can unfold and wrap around herself, offering it to her should she choose. "Here, it's getting so cold out and it's only going to get colder in a few minutes."


"Huh?" Caitlin turns and blinks at the voice, though it takes her a second to realize the woman in the stilettos is speaking to her, with… actual, human concern in her voice!

"Oh! I'm fine, yeah, thanks— I'm just feeling a bit underdressed, y'know?" the redhead admits, smiling at Zee sheepishly. Her accent is very much /not/ New York, either— somewhere that sounds like wide blue skies and corn farming had a lot to do with her upbringing.

"Gosh, this is nice, thanks," she says, admiring the cashmere bolt and draping it over her bare shoulders. "I'm not /super/ cold," she admits modestly, "but it's getting chilly enough I need some hot cocoa. I just wanted to duck in and get a t-shirt so I don't have to deal with all the creepers staring at me on the subway, y'know?" she admits.

"I'm Caitlin, by the way," Cait adds, sticking a hand out at Zatanna and offering a friendly handshake, smiling at the other woman.


"Well, still, I mean….tall, leggy redhead in a sports bra. New York is full of creeps, better not poke that particular bear - not when you look like you've had a long day already," Zatanna says, looking relieved as Caitlin takes her offering and wraps it around herself. But she does smile in a way that reaches her eyes. "Though between you and me, I'm more concerned about what you'd do to them than what they would do to you."

She stuffs a paper wrapping back in one of her shopping bags, though she, herself, looks surprised at the returned friendliness demonstrated by the very tall stranger. A pale hand lifts, graceful digits curling over her own, though her handshake is heart enough, the length of her index finger draped loosely against Caitlin's wrist. "Call me Zee," she says, grinning broadly enough that a small dimple stages a jailbreak over the curve of her left cheek. "Nice to meet you, Caitlin! Well….looks like I'm invested in this now, so let's go find you a place that'll sell you a t-shirt. Let's go this way."

She gestures down the road, and moves in stride with the other woman, taking in the crush of the evening foot traffic and headlights blazing up and down the adjacent streets. It doesn't take long for them to find a place - souvenir shops are extremely common in the city and novelty t-shirts are typically one of their staples. "I'm sure they have some, but uh…."

She plucks a hanger from one of the outside racks and holds it up to Caitlin; a white shirt with a large black slogan:

F(emale) B(ody) I(nspector).

"Good god, what the hell happened to the I Heart NYC t-shirts?"


"I haven't ever punched someone for leering, though I draw the line at hand gestures and crude suggestions," Caitlin says, clearly agreeing with Zee's sentiment and flashing a merry grin at the praise. "But the worst I ever did was make a guy where a golf club as a necklace for a while after he didn't take the hint!"

She follows along with Zee, shortening her strides a little so the magician doesn't have to double-time to keep pace. "Lead on, I'm still finding my way around the city," Caitlin apologizes. "I only just moved to Metropolis, I was in Gotham for most of the last year."

Once they're in the room, Caitlin walks very carefully- almost hunched in, to be sure she doesn't step on any toes or bump anyone. Still, her elbows jostle the clothing racks quite a lot, and mostly accideentally. Despite her poise and balance, there's a sense of her that she probably is not always aware of where her limbs are.

"I… wha?" She blinks at looks at the T-shirt, then looks askance at Zee to see if she's being pranked— then bursts out laughing, merrily and with a musical tone to it. "Oh my goodness! Wow, that's— I wish I had the guts to wear it, that's hilarious," she says, giggling furiously behind her palm. It takes her a while to calm down, and she clears her throat, holding fingertips to her lips.

"Errhm. Sorry. Uh, how about this one?" she asks, tugging on an XL t-shirt with a picture of the Statue of Liberty on it.


"Seriously? I hope you were cheeky about it, twist it around and turn it into a metal bowtie," Zatanna banters with a laugh. "He can go walk around looking like he escaped from the bondage club on West Twenty-Sixth street." She pauses, and turns to look at Cait, lifting her fingers upwards. "And no, I don't go there! Often. I mean, it's a twenty-one and over club so….it's just that I'm familiar with it because a private investigator acquaintance made mention of it, so I got curious and checked it out. Once. And by once I mean I just peeked through the window before I ran away from the bouncers that saw me."

She does try to be helpful, paying an equal measure of interest in the quest for a decent shirt as she is with the conversation, once again seized by the hungry desire to connect with another person. To the shirt that Caitlin holds up, she shakes her head. "Nope, veto. I mean, it's fine otherwise but it's pink and your hair's this lovely shade of red…it'll clash. Trust me, when it comes to clothes, I'm a bit of a savant." She takes the Statue of Liberty shirt away from her and wanders deeper into the shop. "Let's see…casual, but not too touristy…"

She finds a rack full of tank tops, already plowing through the selections. "Oh, this one buttons down, this is perfect." It's simple and sporty, with delicate lace fringing on the bottom hem. "Dark green….aha." She pulls it up and holds in front of Caitlin, her ice-blue eyes flicking between the shade of her hair and the depth of the emerald tones of the top. "Perfect. Now let's see if we can't find you a jacket."

There are quite a few, with New York City slogans and decals. As the search continues, Zee looks over her shoulder. "I've never been to Metropolis," she says conversationally. "But I spent some of my childhood in Gotham and I just got back, actually. I spent the last few years traveling, so when I flew back here a few days ago, I got lost /immediately/, oh my god. Thankfully New York city planners were savvy enough to build it on a grid. Like they actually care to make sure that you get to where you're going. Definitely not like Boston, where I'm pretty sure all the city planners draft their blueprints with half a bottle of Jack Daniels inside them every day."

She finds a jacket, and wrinkles her nose at the selections. "No, no…oh hell no. Look at this!" She pulls it out and shows her; black leather and dripping with thick, bulky chains. "I didn't know the Hells Angels licensed out their gear to tourist traps in New York."


Caitlin comes up short, shuddering at the bad knockoff of an 80s action movie outfit. "Ugh. No thanks, that's /very/ much not my speed. This shirt, though, this is perfect," she says, examining the blouse. "I'll have to take it in a bit at the waist, but… I think this could work," she mumbles, eyes flickering. Considering how she's built, it's unlikely that anything short of spandex doesn't need alterations for casual wear.

She goes to pay for it, using a credit card, then slips into the shirt as quickly as possible. "I love this color," Caitlin admires, looking at herself in the mirror. The shirt's a XXL women's shirt, and fits her shoulders rather well, giving her a tomboyish look.

She turns back and forth in the mirror with a weirdly inflated amount of self-criticism, but seems to find the shirt more or less acceptable. "I really don't need a jacket, I've got… like, a really fast metabolism? So I don't really get a chill," Caitlin tells Zee, demurring politely. "Makes it kinda cheating to do a polar bear plunge."


"Wow, really? I guess…I mean, I try not to assume, you know? Admittedly, New York has its fair share of special people these days." Zatanna stows the jacket away and follows Caitlin to the register and then the mirror, leaning her shoulder against the wall and slipping her fingers into one of her coat's pocket. A knee bends slightly, her other shopping bags dangling freely from her free set of digits.

"Well, when I started performing, that's the first thing my manager told me," she says. "Get a decent tailor, since there's no way a store-bought top will ever fit perfectly if you've got a pair of these." She clamps both of her hands over her breasts, giving them an experimental squeeze each, letting them go in a buoyant bounce. "The things we have to do to look fabulous."

She laughs, flashing Cait a thumbs-up through the mirror, fitful illumination within the store glinting off her nail's flawless black manicure. "Greens will always look amazing on redheads," she tells her. "Complimentary hues on the color wheel and all. Blues will look great, also, there's some blonde in your red, so if you wear blue, your red will look like it's got some gold in it…it'll just pull it out and make it more obvious. White looks great with your coloring also, but in more conservative cuts…like pantsuits. No white booty shorts for you, girl."

The approval the other woman demonstrates earns her that megawatt smile, Zee's white teeth manifesting like pearls against a crimson backdrop. She claps her hands together. "Brill," she says gamely. "My good deed for the day is done! It looks great, not bad for a tourist trap find, eh?"


"I have to get my sports bras custom," Caitlin tells Zee, in wry confidence. "I think I read somewhere the lycra they use is derived from liner material used by NASA." I had to stop using underwires after I sneezed and blew the supports out." There is vast sympathy in her voice— Caitlin knows well Zee's frustations with being somewhat over-endowed.

"No, you did great! And I have enough money left over I don't have to break into the emergency ramen tonight," Caitlin says, Zee's infections grin prompting one from Caitlin, too. She looks like the sort of girl who doesn't smile nearly enough, and doesn't realize her smile might be her best feature.

"D'you wanna get some coffee with me?" Caitlin invites Zee. "There's a place right around the corner, they're pretty chill and it's not crazy overpriced. Can I buy you a latte or a scone, as a thank-you? And it's cool if you wanna pass, I'm not crazy or anything, but I know how it can get in this town!"


Her companion has an expressive face, mmeant to shift with every emotion - the underwire story has Zee's eyes widening, her lips forming an astonished 'o'. "No way, really? Not even the titanium ones?" she wonders, pushing off the wall she is leaning against, taking a few steps out of the small store once Caitlin's inspection of herself is complete. "Well, my friend. That clinches it." She rests her hand on the taller woman's shoulder in an exaggerated fashion, nodding sagely.

"You're officially a heavenly body," she deadpans.

The grin returns, tilting her head sideways and giving the redhead a wink, before the two of them venture out into the cold streets of New York once again. Pushing a lock of hair away from her eyes, the young woman blinks once at the invitation to coffee. "Sure," she says, nonplussed. "I don't have anywhere else to be just yet, and I love coffee, so let's go! I'm not one to pass up a free drink, and an actual conversation, I feel like I'm trying to catch up on the years I missed not living stateside."

She follows the taller woman wherever she leads - once they get to the coffeehouse, Zatanna's cheeks are red, the flush of color whipped there by chilly Autumn winds, grousing at the unseasonable cold that has overtaken the eastern seaboard. " 'Global warming doesn't exist' my ass," she mumbles under her breath, stepping in and breathing a sigh of relief at the warmer confines of the coffeehouse. "Ahhhh, that feels good."

Getting in line, she turns to Cait, tilting her head back so she could look her in the eye. "So what do you do in Metropolis, Caitlin?" she asks. "Let me guess….model?"


Caitlin chokes, snorts a little, and laughs merrily at Zee, covering her mouth again. "Ohmygoodness! That's— bahaha! Youre hilarious!" Zatanna's effortless humor and swaggering self confidence get an envious look from the big ginger, who's obviously of a more demure attitude.

She heads into the cafe after Zee, peering down at the woman, and then laughs and shakes her head at the implied compliment, blushing. "Oh gosh, no. I work at Baxter Industries— I work with Reed Richards," she explains. "I'm one of the interns, though I've been interning for like a years, so… I guess I'm really just a badly-titled employee. How about you? You just moved here, right? You said… I think you said something about a manager?"


"Wow, really? /The/ Reed Richards?" Zatanna wonders, looking surprised and rather impressed. "I mean, I don't have much of a brain for science, but everyone's heard of him. He's always in the magazines. Wow, what's he like in real life? Is he as gigantic of a nerd everyone says he is?"

They reach the counter and the black-haired young woman keeps her order simple - a double shot of espresso, with some cream and two sugars. Making room for Caitlin by the counter, she frowns faintly at the revelation of her years-long internship. "Time to strut, Caitlin," she says. "Have some words with HR, or maybe Dr. Richards himself. Grab him by the collar and shaaaaake…!" She pantomimes throttling someone with her fingers. "I wonder if he'd flop around like a wet noodle if someone did that to him? Anywway in all seriousness, you should look into it. You've been there for years, you should at least have a title that you can put in business cards."

She laughs at the last. "Nah, not New York, though I spend a lot of time here - lots of stage acts around, I get gigs here frequently. I'm a university student but I moonlight as a stage illusionist. Here…" She tilts her open palm towards Caitlin, then curls her fingers inward slowly, snapping her fingers, revealing a card that wasn't there before:

Zatanna Zatara
Mistress of Magic, Princess of Prestidigitation

And her number.

"I'm pretty okay," she says with a laugh. "I mean, if I can entertain someone and make them forget about their hardships for a little while, that's good, right?"


"I… well, gosh, no one even mentioned that idea before," Catilin blinks at Zatanna, ordering a latte for herself and following the confident magicienne around, eagerly taking in her solidly practical advice. "He /is/ a super nerd, and his head's sometimes buried in the sky and you can't get him to talk about 'real life' for the world. Sue's the only one who can snap him out of it when he's on a real bender," she admits, wryly. She pays for both of them and shuffles to the counter's end to pick the drinks up when ready.

"It's only been /a/ year," Caitlin admits. "But they want me to stay around long term, I think, so… I mean, I'll run it past Sue," she says, offering it as a compromise. "She'll think it over."

At the neat little card trick, Catilin goes 'Ooh!' in admiration, and promptly tries to look up Zatanna's sleeve. "Wow! That's really cool!" she exclaims. "Close up magic, I've never seen that before! I mean, I knew a guy in college who did card tricks to impress girls, but it's pretty hard to miss it when someone's got a spring wired up his sleeve," Caitlin admits.

"What sorta tricks do you do? Flowers up the sleeve? Milk into the jug? Cutting assistants in half?"


She does what most magicians wouldn't dare do - she lets Caitlin /inspect/ her sleeves, and she would find nothing there, no springs, no contraptions, just smooth, pale skin and a ballpoint pen notation on her inner forearm that reads 'Call JJ at 8 pm today'.

"No time like the present," Zatanna encourages; if she is in any way discouraged by her companion's more demure personality, she doesn't show it - if anything, she seems to be doing her damn best to influence her into being the opposite while she's in her orbit. Retrieving her coffee, she waits for Caitlin to get her own and settle the bill, before looking for a place to sit, already using one hand to shed her coat, flicking buttons out of their holes with dexterous fingers.

"Ah, the classics," she laughs. "Daddy taught me those when I was around five. I still practice them now and then, sleight of hand is something you can get rusty on super easily if you let the skill lie dormant for a while. I do all kinds of routines, but I managed to recently perfect a card trick I've been working on for a year, add a modern twist to it. Wanna see?"

She sets her cup down, stripping her outer layer off and draping it on the back of her chair. Twisting the seat, she sits on it backwards, straddling it and folding her arms on the backrest.


Caitlin settles into her seat a lot more demurely, and carefully— the metal grumbles protst as she settles down onto it, as if she weighs a LOT more than she must look. She winces but it holds, so she turns her rapt attention on Zatanna, watching curiously at the little display. Jacket off, no sleeves, no cuffwires, no hidden flowers. Intrigued, she transfers her green gaze to Zee, then nods vigorously at the invitation! "Sure! I love magic," she tells Zatanna. "It drives me nuts though, I'll go home and wrack my brain for hours trying to figure out how to get the two parts of the solid rings to go together, y'know?" she admits, sheepishly.


"Well, prepare to be amazed!" Zatanna says with that blazing, flashfire grin, bowing her head a little bit from where she sits. She holds her hands out, rolling the sleeves of her black Edwardian top; fingers drift with airy gestures as she directs Caitlinn's line of sight towards the empty table before them.

She flips her palm over, forming a cup with her fingers, letting it rest on the wooden surface - once she draws that appendage away, a deck of cards sits before Caitlin. Taking the deck, she starts shuffling - lightning fast, lightning quick, the array of diamonds, spades, hearts and clubs fan out effortlessly as Zatanna cuts, shufffles, splits, flips and re-shuffles the deck. The way she does it is already impressive, suggesting years of dedicated practice.

She lets the deck lie flat on the table, fanning it out so each individual corner could be seen. "Pick a card, any card," she says. "Don't tell me what it is, just give it a quick look, then place it back anywhere on the deck."


Caitlin sits properly upright, watching with rapt fascination. She tries to follow the flickering of cards, but Zatanna's dextrous manipulations prove to be entirely beyond her ken. It's effortless, graceful, and mind-bogglingly expert, and Caitlin just resigns herself finally to enjoying the dazzling display in front of her.

"Uh… Okay!" Caitlin pulls a card and bends it back juuuust far enough she can see the suite and number, cupping a hand around it so Zatanna can't see it, then puts it back into the deck. "Okay! Got it! What's next?"


"And now I shuffle again."

Zatanna picks up the deck, splitting it and shuffling - she could have seen where Caitlin had placed her card on the deck, but doing those complicated shuffles would simply make her chosen card hopelessly lost within fifty-one other cards. Her smile grows, watching the redhead's expression - the best part of the trick, really, is the audience's reaction and half the reason why she has embraced her father's profession instead of finding her own passions. The stage was just as much her birthright as her other more mystical talents.

Talents which she is currently not using; it is a point of pride, she would say to anyone, that she could still perform small miracles without them.

"Alright, let's see… this…..your card?"

She pulls out a card and shows it to Caitlinn, her expression youthfully expectant.

It…is definitely not her card.

And she's supposed to be a professional?!


Caitlin looks /so excited/ to see a real magic trip, up front and in her face, that her brows lift, and a smile swells, and she starts to say 'yes' before she's even reading her card— but it's decidedly not the 8 of Clubs. She falters, looking more crestfallen, and her expression suggests strongly she's far more upset about shooting Zatanna down than not seeing magic front and center.

"Er… no, I'm sorry, that's not it," Caitlin says. She even winces a little, as if anticipating an emotional outburst from her newfound friend. "Did you… did I put it into the deck wrongly?"


"What? Really?" Zatanna turns the card to face her, frowning at the two of diamonds in her fingers. "Aw, and I practiced so hard at this. I mean…are you sure this isn't your card?" She claps her card between her palms, meeting Caitlin's eyes from across the table.

While most of the young woman's expression is serious, past long lashes and the clear, crystal color of those ice-blue eyes, the redhead would find it, tat spark of irrepressible, uncontainable mischief. While her lips remain pursed, those eyes are practically smiling at the redhead.

The trick isn't over.

She slowly spreads her clasped palms apart; the card is gone, replaced by a growing soap bubble that floats from her palms, drifting over the table. A convincing enough actress, Zatanna furrows her brows, squinting at the bubble.

"Huh, I guess that really isn't your card," she tells Caitlinn. "How did that get there? Let's see…what if I do….this."

She pokes her finger lightly against the bubble, popping it and sending a small spray of moisture and dew over the table as a flat rectangular /something/ falls at the wake of its destruction, landing face up on the wooden surface.

The eight of clubs stares at Caitlinn from its new position.

"Is that your card?" the magician asks. "Because if it is….well, ta-daaa~!" She wiggles her fingers exaggeratedly at her.


"Woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah." Caitlin's eyes go big as saucers when Zatanna pulls her 'trick'. "How— how did you /do/ that?" she asks, looking amazed. "That's literally the coolest trick I've ever seen," she says, looking wildly impressed— perhaps even moreso as she realizes how deftly Zatanna 'handled' her, and like many audiences, is more than willing to forgive Zatanna for tricking her so expertly. "Man, I didn't— and the bubble! How did you hide it in the /bubble/! Was that…" She leans forward, dropping her voice. "Was that /real magic/? I've seen my friend Wanda do real magic, so I mean, I won't freak out, but even if it was a spell, it was a pretty cool way to do it!"


"What? Really?" Zatanna wonders, looking genuinely interested. "You know someone who can do this for real?" Inwardly, she wracks her brain, trying to reference the name with her mental list of occultists - most of Giovanni Zatara's contacts fell in three solid categories, industry folks, active and retired participants in the magical community, and heroes that he worked with during his days in the All Star Squadron. But nowhere in those lists does she remember a Wanda.

She deduces that whoever she is, she was probably a young practitioner - all of Giovanni's contacts in the community were veterans, boasting hundreds of years of sorcerous knowledge collectively among them.

"Would it disappoint you terribly if I said that was all sleight of hand?" she wonders. "I guess it would be even more impressive if I used real magic, huh?"


"Not at all! I think that's way cooler, that you do it with your hands instead of, y'know—" Caitlin makes an airy gesture that's vaguely suggestive of a magical motion. "I mean, let's be real, there are people who can break gravity and live off sunshine out there," she tells Zatanna. "That'd be at least something I can discuss, y'know, scientifically."

"But this," she says, gesturing at the card trick. "I mean, I can tell how much time and work went into it. Not I'm WAY gonna be up late!" she complains, laughing. "If it was just magic, I could go 'Oh well, unknowable energy, blah blah blah. This is WAY worse," she promises the leggy magicienne extraordinaire. "Now I gotta figure out how you did it, because I know on some level, I should be able to do it, too!"


"When it comes to stage magic, Daddy's pretty old school," Zatanna confesses, gathering up the cards and making them disappear between her fingers, grinning broadly at Caitlinn when she gushes her appreciation over legerdemain. "Cut a woman in half, make rabbits come out of hats, that sort of thing. Nowadays you don't really see that anymore because most stage illusionists are obsessed with modernizing the old classics, but if you don't know them, you won't be able to refine your craft. At least, that's what he always says to me. So I practice the cheesiest stuff - the ropes, the linking rings, the endless handkerchiefs, the handcuffs tricks…I've become pretty good, though I don't hold a candle to him."

She takes another sip of her coffee. "Well. Not yet, anyway." She flashes Caitlinn another wink at that.

"Anyway, best of luck with that, and I hope you do so you can tell me later," Zatanna remarks. "You know the rules, I can't tell you how I did it. If I did, I'm sure security will just pop out from under the floor and rip up my membership card to that exclusive club. But if I ever book a gig in Metropolis, you should definitely come. I'll have a seat reserved for you."

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she groans as she slowly gets up, pulling on her coat. "Ugh, time does fly when you're having fun. I better dash, I gotta call someone. It's really nice to meet you, though. And thank you so much for the coffee!"


"Oh, sure! It was my pleasure," Caitlin says, getting to her feet when Zatanna makes her apologies to withdraw. "This was fun, though, you're totally a blast to be around. I'll text you, yeah?" Caitlin says, examining the business card for a phone number. "Can't have too many cool friends in New York, if you ask me, and I would /love/ to see some more of those incredible close-up tricks!" She grins at Zatanna, a pair of dimples caving in under her high cheekbones. "And yeah, if you get a… gig lined up, please, I'll be there front and center," Caitlin assures Zatanna. "I'm really excited to see your act!" She offers Zatanna a quick, gentle handshake, but uses both hands to do so to offer a bit more intimacy than a stern 'And a nice day to you', that a traditional clasp might suggest.


"Anytime, you got my digits," Zatanna says, clasping the taller woman's hand and giving it a warm squeeze. "I'd be like 'whoa, no pressure!' there, but honestly, I thrive on it. If people are excited to see me go up there, I'm even more excited to put on a good show, so yeah! You better come, if that happens, I'll be looking for you!"

There's another quick grin, before the young magician heads for the door, giving her another wave over her shoulder. And with that, she is gone, leaving the door swinging in her wake, her black-clad figure swallowed up by the omni-present rush of the city's pedestrian traffic.

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