She shouldn’t laugh. Really, she shouldn’t. But the spray bottle tickles the part of her heart that loves ridiculousness.

“I picked the job,” she says, and she means it. Despite the moonlighting, the motorcycling, the reporting ([i]who owns my house?[/i]), she picked this because it seemed the happiest way to keep her savings from nosediving. All she really wants these days is enough to get by, and some good times.

“But ouija? That’s roleplaying without the dice. Or is calculating the probabilities of dice rolls too close to your job?“

By the way, complete and actual coincidence, 3V’s got a new 3D-printed centerpiece display to advertise [i]Inheritance.[/i] Níðhöggr, wings outstretched, antlers majestic, perched on one of Yggdrasil’s gnawed roots. Not the version she beat her head against back when she played [i]Mythos,[/i] but she likes this one.