Examining his palm a bit more intently, Katya read the lines of his hands. "I am seeing... a passionate desire for music that is eclipsing all of the reasons," she told him. "You are desperate for this music, da? And you will do much to gain it, but in doing so will cause its maker to be despising you, most likely. You will love her voice, but exist to her for the most part in the shadows. A phantom."
Katya pursed her lips, surprised by her own poetry. She wasn't usually so poetic with readings. His hands did have their own poetry. Perhaps that was what she read when she looked at them. She released his hands and pulled away, watching him. "But this. I am thinking you were already suspecting it." Not that it mattered much to her.