The next customer that came in was probably the most annoying type of all. The one that visited all the time, expecting something different and never believed Caius when he said that wasn't how his powers worked. Of course there was only one person it could possibly be. Otto. The boy closed the flaps of the tent, casting them into shadow broken only by the candles and the crystals that hung above them. He sighed at the boy's quip, proving his point that he never listened. "Otto, child." He said, his making it obvious that he was poking at the boy's height and child-like appearance. "I've told before, that isn't how my powers work. I can't see whatever I want, whenever I want. There are rules. I'm already breaking the natural order by seeing the future in the first place."

Caius sometimes wondered whether or not any place would want him after he died. Or if the higher powers would just spit him back out onto Earth because he angered them by messing with fate. "As for your easier question... Give me your hands and I'll see if I can answer it." Caius didn't tell anybody, mostly out of pride, but it was always more difficult to see the futures of those in the circus. Everything was always, fuzzy in a way. Like he was watching something in very low quality. Most likely it was due to the fact that none of them should even be alive. Or perhaps it was part of the curse? Either way, Caius could still make out enough to answer questions, but never much more than that. And he never dared to look more than a year ahead. It just seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

Besides, most of their future was certain already. At least, considering they couldn't die, he couldn't accidentally stumble upon anybody's death. He could never actually see it, the vision would just go black. But it would always give him a headache. The kind that throbbed and stabbed all at the same time and felt like his head was being squeezed. He may not have been able to die, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel pain. 

Caius used to care about getting in trouble with Madame Sombre, or Tanner, which if they caught him telling one of the circus performer's futures he certainly would. But now he just didn't care. Without the threat of death hanging over his head, there just wasn't much they could do to him anymore. And he had lived long enough that death's embrace would be sweet not bitter. The older the performers got, the less of a hold Madame Sombre and Tanner had on them.