Priorities


Prior Commitment

Ah, Christmastime. The icy, snowy wonderland where we all end up heading home to spend time with the fam, see the old town, haunt the old haunts.

Except my haunts are all crap, my town is not super in love with local family of psychics, and my mother expects us all to get intimately involved in the annual Christmas fair. For me, that means freezing my butt off to serve hot chocolate to the ungrateful masses of Pryor, Washington.

But heck, it could be worse. At least working the booth, I get to scope out any potential eye candy. And boy howdy is Noel ever one sweet piece of candy.

But convincing him of that? Well that could take a little doing. But nothing a mind reader can't handle.



Prior Affair
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There's nothing like ushering in the New Year back in your home town. The Christmas malaise is still in the air, everything feels just a little sluggish, and you can be yourself.

For me, that means being openly clairvoyant. No need to hide the visions when you're back with your big, happy psychic family. I mean, when you're just tooling around the streets of Montana, you can't very well stop old men on the street and tell them about their upcoming heart attack. Not without getting sent to the loony bin.

But you know, not all visions are bad. A vision showed me Smith Meyers, and he's a sight worth beholding twice, if you catch my drift. Plus he just seems a touch accident prone.

One clairvoyant will fix that right up, though.



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Prior Engagement

What's the number one thing people come to psychics for? Matters of the heart. And that means Valentine's Day is a very, very good money-maker for a tarot card reader. Plus both of my brothers are actually psychic. I have to stay on theme to fit in with the family, right? Just because the magic woo-woo gene skipped me doesn't mean I can't have my fun.

So I'm back home for the Valentine's Day Carnival, ready to dispense romantic advice at ten bucks a pop to all the people who hate my family. Money's money. Sure, I'd rather skin myself alive than play to a crowd most days, but I've still got bills to pay.

Of course, it's not all bad. There's a few friendly faces. One in particular, anyway: Morgan Woods. Friend of my brother's, and he apparently remembers me. For all the right reasons.

Too bad all I can focus on are those cheekbones and that smile.

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