[ His palms meet with a crack, the suddenness of it diffused by the broad smile that spreads across his face, dark eyes wide with raw delight. Finally, an opportunity to draw on his skills, to test the limits of his ability -- wrong anime, excuse me. The self-described "psychic" was a man who would not turn down business, gladly rolling his fingers together as he shamelessly added: ]

Trading a service for a service? I'll admit I'm usually keen on being paid cashmoney for my work, but considering where we are what what's passing for 'currency' here... okay, that sounds like a fair deal.

[ One 'Arataka Reigen-style Fortune', coming right up!

He'd spring from the chair with all the pomp and circumstance of a showman, were it not for the heaviness of his limbs, the lethargy that pools within him no matter how many energy drinks he's slugged or naps he's taken. He can feel it thrumming along the connection between himself and the others who share his aspect ( -- the 'truth of soul', as it was said to be ), and so he turns the showboating into a display of gravitas.

Standing slowly, he makes his way to one of the shelves and sets his fingers to the spines of the books -- dragging the digits along the time-frozen items to-and-fro for a few seconds. A few more, as his eyes closed and his nose scrunched in extreme thought. It looks painful, laborious as he does so. And then - a burst of Sand, the audible sound of a clock re-engaging with a vibrating '--TOCK', and the book springs into color. It's something he can draw out now, taking it from the shelf in order to bring it back to the man with him. ]

This'll be the one.

[ Deathly serious, even as he smiles, looming over the book like he's about to tell a ghost story, not 'read' a fortune. ]