flopflop122 — Roleplayer Guild

The offices of Psychics 4 U, were, as perhaps to be expected from a phone psychic agency of dubious legality (although as pointed out in ads, only meant for entertainment purposes), not considered among the nicest buildings in Indianapolis. In fact, it probably ranked as one of the ugliest buildings in Indianapolis, but beneath it's crumbling facade, there was...not love, not exactly joy, or even hope, really, but there were people doing their job. 

Merveille was one of those people, currently in hushed whisperings with some man who was frantically asking about whether his wife had been unfaithful. She could already picture the man, balding, beginning to let his body go in pursuit of just one more promotion, as his wife was left alone at home to do what-or-whoever she pleased. So, was he looking for reassurance, either in his wife's faithfulness or in his manic deductions.

"Well," Merveille began, in that patois she'd perfected when playing Tituba so many years ago. "I must first caution you: the answers I provide may not be the ones you want."

Whether it was on stage or over phone, the concept of acting remained the same. You had to build up suspense. Let the audience's mind wander, piece together the puzzle they'd created in their minds, all while the silence hung heavy in the air. 

"So," the man asked, his whisper barely able to be heard over the tinny speaker. "What is it?"

At that, she exhaled. Of course he wanted to know. That's why he was calling, of course, but keeping them waiting, kept customers all the more sure that what they were getting were true insights, gleaned from a true clairvoyant. Also, it was a form of stalling, considering money was made per minute, but that was secondary. If you could keep them calling, you could keep them paying. 

"The answer is no, your wife has not laid with another."

Merveille could almost chuckle at the mighty release of breath she heard over the line, but with the harm that would do to her whole image, she simply kept her mouth shut until the man on the other end-Anthony? Andrew? fell silent. 

"However, you would do much good, my child, to look into your finances."

While it was nice to assuage one fear, one always had to remember there was another lurking around the corner. And really, it wasn't that difficult. Anthony - yes, she was sure of it this time - had already spoken of leaving his wife at home, and while his mind may have wandered to her in bed, the ability to call up whoever she wanted, there was the possibility of her instead eyeing one of his credit cards.

Finally concluding her "session" with a curt goodbye, Merveille put the phone down and sighed. Psychic was a role like any other now, even if the glimpses she saw in her sleep of screams and blood seemed to be getting more and more frequent. Here, at least, she could control what the vision of past or future was, or better yet, leave it obscured enough for others to make of it what they wished. Grabbing her purse after standing up from the chair, she opened the door and was about to leave for home, when she noticed a Post-It note on the opposite side of the office door.

Hey Merveille,
A man came in and delivered an envelope for you. Said it was urgent or whatever, so please pick it up from the reception desk! 

Amy

P.S. I've already gone home to watch over my grandma. You know where the key is.

Raising her eyebrow at the receptionist's gall, Merveille made her way to the reception, found the key to the desk drawer (underneath the potted plant), and opened it to find an envelope embossed with a wax seal.

This couldn't be good.

With shaking hands, Merveille opened the envelope, and read the letter, eyes poring over the contents. Then, with her face steeled, she put the letter back in the envelope, the envelope in her purse, and got into her car.

As she drove for home, she wondered whether this is what she had been dreaming of.
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