Lea, for her part, can see in the dark. Faqra's physiological advantages tend to vary--for example, she doesn't have much in the way of super-strength, though she's a little bit stronger than the average woman of her build, but the sight and the balance and the reflexes, those she's got covered. That's why she carefully withdraws the little pink gun from her bag, holding it at her side as they make their way through the dusty, dilapidated shop.

"I don't think this is a glamour," she says, slowly, "I'd feel that. I think you would, too."

Their shared inclination toward terrifying magic was one of the first things that Lea noticed, after all, and she's only had more evidence as time goes on. Her footsteps are, on that note, unnaturally soundless as she makes her way toward the back of the shop.

"May I ask you a question? It's all right if you don't want to answer, but...what is that mark on your hand for?"

She might as well ask while they're committing what she is increasingly concerned may be legally considered trespassing.