[ He almost offers it to her—the finely spun cloth with its disquieting emblem—to feel. He doesn't, of course. Patient and persistent are the words he was given, but implacable keeps coming to mind. That painting—the two robed ambassadors and their bounty of worldly objects. The skull that, perceived from the right angle, emerges. ]
What kind? [ It's a little impertinent. He seems aware: his smile like a wrinkle he can't quite smooth. ] I don't really know anything about tarot cards. You'd think there'd be a well, though.
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What kind? [ It's a little impertinent. He seems aware: his smile like a wrinkle he can't quite smooth. ] I don't really know anything about tarot cards. You'd think there'd be a well, though.