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Holding a cellphone hostage from a little princess was hardly the worst thing that Astrid had done that day (stealing ice cream from a little boy took the cake), but her reaction was the best one she had managed to get in a while. The girl looked frightened. Genuinely frightened. Huge black wings did have their perks, even if they didn't involve a comfortable sleeping position.

The girl begged her using the sweetest voice that had ever reached Astrid's ears. It was a grating noise, which only made her grip the phone tighter. So, she didn't have any money with her. The winged girl weighed the little rectangle in her hand and studied it. The thing looked expensive. She could probably get more than fifty bucks for it.

>>"Why are you doing this?"

Astrid merely shrugged at her question. If she were able to snark in English, she probably would have, but she simply settled for being aloof.

The smirk returned to her face as she pocketed the cellphone in her black dress. She had recently been in a kick of buying dresses with pockets. Exclusively in black, of course.

She turned back to the girl and gave her a mock salute. "*Au revoir, Princesse."

---

*Goodbye, Princess.

Astrid frowned darkly at the girl. That hadn't been the reaction she was expecting. If the girl could understand French, showing her where she was wrong would be much easier, but since English was the only option, she would have to make do.

She stood up, next to the girl in the mirror. "You are... Better now..." She struggled for words that would convey her meaning, "more... Looking... At you... From... Person... With... Decisions..." Her lips pursed together in thought. That didn't sound quite right. Hopefully the girl would understand that she was trying to tell her she would be respected more.

She studied the little girl on the bed with her dress and headband. It wasn't exactly an evil thing to do, giving her a makeover, but it had been fun. Plus, it had been a while since she had had an interaction with someone that wasn't aggressive. Maybe she would do two evil things the next day to make up for it.

This looks like such a fun character! I can't wait to see what you do with her

A small tingle spread across Astrid's skin after she slapped the boy's hand. It was a slightly strange feeling, but she didn't really think much of it. It was likely just the excitement from using French again.

She shrugged at his question. She didn't, really, but she wanted him to, so lying seemed like the best option. <I suppose I do. Is having wings not magic in some ways? Magic is just perception, and reality is within the eye of the beholder.> What a load of trash.

The boy was rolling his eyes at her. She had been warned about American teens and the attitude they had. Of course, he was really a Frenchman, but it was difficult to tell from his mannerisms. She rolled her lips into a snarl and furrowed her brow at him, angered by his response.

<You hardly let me finish,> Astrid hissed at him, <there are many more cards in the deck, and you haven't even asked any questions yet. But I suppose that's your trouble, now, you low life cheapskate. Good luck when you're left bleeding on the streets with no hint to your future.> She was still trying her darnedest to bait him, which meant getting defensive. Of course, that wasn't all that difficult for her.


She stood up in a huff, her wings puffed out in fury. She had completely forgotten that she was still meant to be selling to other people, and that where the boy was sitting was her spot. And her sign.

Astrid's lips parted for a second, about to say something in reply, before the boy began to speak again. That time, she didn't have to struggle to understand him at all. In fact, the words that tumbled from his mouth were in her native French language.

She paused for a moment, her mouth slightly parted as she studied him. He took her sign and sat on it, which she would have said something about, but she was still in shock from his words.

<I speak,> she replied in perfect French after a moment. <Your French is too good for you to be a slobbering American. Where are you from?>

He took out a wallet; velcro with dinosaurs. Astrid scoffed at him. Of course the only French person she would meet would carry something so childish. It could be overlooked, of course, because she could actually speak to him.

Cautiously, she took his offer of the coupons. She held the little slips of paper in her hand, studying them. It was better than nothing, especially since there wasn't exactly a line up of people waiting behind him. Although, she had heard nothing but poor things about the MacDonald's in America compared to the ones in France. She didn't really have that many other options, though.

The boy offered to fix her sign in exchange for her services, even finishing the offer with a huge smile. Astrid cocked an eyebrow at him. She had thought her sign was pretty good, but that would explain why no one was speaking to her. That and her convenient location of the ground.

<Fine.> She nodded to him. <But no palm readings, then. Those cost the full price.> She took out the pack of cards and shuffled them in front of him. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but her poker face was pretty good.

She splayed the deck out in front of him so that he could see all of the cards face down. <Chose three.>

When you get down to it, New York is expensive. Especially for teenage girls on salaries of less than ten dollars a day. Busking was fun, of course, but somedays people were much less willing to spend money than others. That was one of those days.

Astrid turned over her cello case, trying to shake out the loose change that she may have missed when going through it before. A nickle fell out. The girl's shoulder's slumped a little. The extra five cents brought her total up to $2.78. Not even enough for a hotdog at the stand.

Her black eyes scanned the crowd angrily, trying to see if there was someone passing by that would be easy to pick-pocket.

Who was she kidding? With her wings, she was about as out of sight as a fog horn. There was no way she could go undetected enough to steal a wallet. Perhaps if she just picked someone up and shook them really hard... She shook her head, knowing she needed another plan.

Then, her eyes fell on something lying on the ground near a garbage can. She only seen something like it once before, and even then it had only been at a distance. She stood up and put her cello away, looking around before walking towards the object. 

Astrid picked up the little rectangle and held it in her hand. It was what she thought it was. A pack of tarot cards. She went through it, eyeing the ratty bunch of paper. She had no idea if it was complete or not, or even what to do with them, but a lot of tourists would believe almost anything. Especially if you sold it right.

She grimaced and fished around carefully for a piece of cardboard to use, and eventually found one. She sat down on the ground, fluffing out her skirt in a circle. Her cello rested next to her, along with the money she had made that day.

On the sign, she wrote: Tarot Card Reeder: Get To Nowing You Fuchur. $15. 

Then, she pulled some feathers from her wings and used them to weave her hair into an intricate braid. For added effect, she pulled off some crystals and set them around her to look professional. The tarot card reader that she had seen before had some kind of crystals with her when Astrid went.

The girl smile, rather pleased with the overall effect of it. The sign looked good, too, she noted. Definitely no spelling mistakes in there. She was getting much better.

She got out the cards and set the sign in front of her, watching the people that glanced at it. All that was left for her to do was wait for customers.

Astrid ground her teeth as she listened to Kaz. For her, she was giving him a lot of leeway. A lot. It was most likely due to the aggressive sounds her stomach made when she thought about her meal on its way.

<"Keep it,"> she muttered to him as she watched him put the money away. It stung a little, knowing that the entire night had been a waste of time, but her ego was more important. <"I'll fare just fine. I come from weathy roots."> The last sentance came out in a rather haughty tone, since she was trying to make it believable. But it likely just sounded like a fourteen year old trying to seem special.

Her eyes brightened a little as their server came by. Her plate was set down in front of her, and she began to eat right away. She ate quickly, as if she hadn't seen food in some time - which she hadn't. She kept her head down all the while, ignoring her companion completely.