Re: The Fortune Teller/ The Soldier
The soldier watched her with more frowning concern than real wariness. Slowly, he tipped up the flask and took another drink, this one slower and more measured, his blurry blue eyes changing course between her and the figment in the window. He was reasonably sure this little performance of sickness was an act, since she had been caught with stolen goods. "This little performance is wasted on me, Miss," he said, in his absent slur. "If you stole the bloody thing, you've been found out now, and it's best to have it out."
The man in the window was not impressed with what he saw, it seemed. He and the soldier were exchanging looks of disapproval, but since no one besides the soldier could see or hear him, it was to no real end. The man in the window was left fiddling with the object in his fingers in irritated, repetitive motions, and the soldier sampled his flask again. It was coming dry soon.
The soldier watched her across the table, frown deepening. His eyes went down to the clunking cup, then back up again. "Here," he said. "You're not really ill then? 'Cos there's no point in it, not with me. Should we fetch out a basin?" The news about buzzing really alarmed him though, and his bloodshot eyes went wide. "Here now none of that! We're supposed to get out of it." He hastily began sliding away from the table. "Leg it, Miss. Come on!"