| The headshop has a reasonable turnout for the special event and several people mill about the store or wait in line for a reading. Sandra's table is set up near the display window. She has an electric teakettle that supplies her hot water and a big bucket for used tea. Her jewelry jangles with every overacted gesture of alleged prescience, and her floofy hair might cause one to inquire how she can see anything in front of her, let alone in the future. Clayton is running the register as well as pleasantly assisting any customers with questions.
When Ed told his mother he'd made discoveries about the family, he had not expected her to-- reciprocate, exactly, and he certainly didn't expect //her// surprise to be an impromptu appearance in-town. "--n't believe in magic, after everything you've seen? What are you afraid of, anyway?" The woman's voice zithers high and insistently toity. She has her big (not that big) lummox of a son seized by one arm, fusses at the flannel collar of her shirt with the other. "Really, if you were that worried about things maybe you should stay away from dalliances with underaged sociali--"
"//There are no dalliances//," Ed hisses, his eyes big in his head as he shoots furtive glances this way, then that. The two Hahns clatter into the headshop amid clicking highheels (hers) and scuffing boots (his), loosely in-tandem. Somehow, Edmund manages not to break anything as he steers.
"Well, why ever //not?//" Flinging the end of her scarf further over her shoulder, Mrs. Hahn tightens the sheaf of silk closer up her chin. Her hair bounces pale above her shoulders. "You've been single for //months// now, and it's not like police officers are going to arrest one of their own for-- oh, those colors don't go at all." The lawyeress stares at Sandra with unabashed interest.
Sandra finishes her reading for a customer before looking at her clothes, trying to figure out how black doesn't go with black. She shrugs and offers, "Would you like a reading?" to Mrs. Hahn.
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