Rosario sure knew how to tell a story. Lyra snuggled up, all her extremities hidden from the cold, vodka reaching the bits that the coat or the blanket didn't, and she tucked away the complicated knot of feelings that were twisted round that money so she could give Rosario her full attention.
The frown started to flicker across her forehead when Rosario mentioned there was no moon, her eyes widened when Rosario said she'd seen something she shouldn't've been able to see. And Lyra felt like she was held suspended over some pool, some pool deep with the mysteries of whatever they were hidden in it, and then her stomach full on dropped.
It was Rosario's look that did it, that, combined with Apollo's name. Lyra pushed herself up straighter, looking across at Rosario searchingly. "Seeing shit? Like psychic shit? He said? When did you talk to him 'bout prophecy? Damn, keep the bottle girl, keep talking."