Xanadu straightened up from her work and turned around to face the direction of her potential customer's voice: "Hi, welcome to Tea Leaves. May I help you?"
Xanadu adjusted the dark glasses on her face before folding the bill and slipping it into the front pocket of her jeans. She would have time to suss it out later.
It was strange the impression of people you could get from a voice. The seer's image involved someone more urbane; brown possibly mopish hair with blue eyes, average and unassuming in appearance. The lack of the more creative details were limited until she heard more.