Swamped

You decide that maybe you'll try to catch Dean after all. You're eager to satisfy your curiosity about Ron's hand, and hearing about some of the creatures in this swamp should be interesting too. Sure, it's late, but how long can a conversation take? If it comes down to it, you can always bow out due to the late hour and suggest meeting again tomorrow.

So you say your goodbyes to Lisa and Grey, and you follow Dean out. Or attempt to, anyhow. There's a fair number of spectators leaving, and it's hard to keep track of where he's going. And you're not forceful enough to just push your way through the crowd, even if you still had both arms.

Still, you manage to catch sight of him a few hallways down. You speed up a bit when there's no one in the way, and you manage to catch up.

"Dean?" you ask.

"It's The Dean, but you're new, so I'll let it slide this time," he says, smirking. "Oh, you were judging the games, weren't you? Is there a problem? I didn't mean to distract any of the competitors with my handsome face, but I suppose I could wear a mask next time if it's an issue."

"No, that's not it," you say. "I just wanted to talk to you. Heard you know about..."

"About animals? Yes, the beasts in this swamp are magnificent. And I have made a habit of learning more about them. Can't hurt in case we end up with an infestation of muckdivers, after all. Oh, but they're just so fascinating! For instance..."

"Ah. Actually, before we get into that, I wanted to talk about fortune-telling. With cards. How do I explain this... well, it's something my father taught me about once, and I've missed him greatly. So I'd like to try and pick it up again."

"Ah! Sentimentality. Well, I can certainly share my considerable expertise with you. Where would you like to begin? The Royce-Garral method? Or perhaps the more traditional Venton?"

"Um, I don't really know enough to know what those mean."

"Well, then. Just tell me what you'd like to know about, and we'll work from there."