Lane did her best not to roll her eyes when he used the word "Wiccan". Witch was actually her preferred term. Wiccan was usually used by teenage girls who wanted to dabble in magic and rebel against their parents' Christian values, until they decided it wasn't worth being edgy and goth anymore. Lane might identify with pagan, but even that was a stretch. Religion wasn't exactly her thing, it was a little too organized for her tastes. That and some of them were run by totally bigoted assholes, so she didn't much see the appeal of sitting in a chapel every Sunday.<br/><br/>"Nonsense and Gibberish and Wiccan? Sounds like you've got me down to a science." She quipped back at him after his comment about a magical brew to heal all his hurts.<i>The customer is always right. The customer is always right...Even if he acts like a hipster douchebag. </i>She chanted internally, to keep herself from snapping back with sharp sarcastic wit. "My degree isn't finished yet, I'm a little young to have an MD. My dad had Bipolar disorder. My mom wasn't stupid enough to think that a little bit of herbal cure would be any match for psychosis. I tend to take her lead with that idea."<br/><br/>Most of the time she didn't spell her family's history to someone, but Lane didn't hold tight to the stigma that surrounded mental illness like her parents had. She actually wondered if it had contributed to her dad marrying her mom. His parents had been devout protestants, who seemed to think his mental illness was either of the devil or punishment for some misdeed. They never seemed to let her father live down the disappoint that he was due to something he could not control. It caused her to be more open about the whole thing, that was the kind of rebellion that actually resonated with Lane.<br/><br/>Of course, that was the moment he did the witchy bit himself, and she realized he was not really here for remedies. Or at least not wholly.<br/><br/>She froze, for a moment, as he loomed over her. He was handsome like this, if not intimidating. Lane did have a streak of poor judgment in men, her brother had even teased her that she was "Bad boy" bait. This man didn't quite fit that aesthetic, but what he lacked in leather and tattoos he seemed to make up for in soul shaking magic. Her features went from polite to guarded in a second, and Lane could look rather fierce when she wanted to.<br/><br/>"Lane. Lane Barnes. But I sort of get the feeling you might already know that...." Most people didn't throw around soul stares, especially not in the way he just had, without some kind of plan. She stepped back from him and led him toward the front of the shop, away from Steve and his concerned looks.<br/><br/>"Look, I don't know what you've heard or what you want, but I don't do that kind of magic." Lane held her hands up, a defensive gesture meant to show she wasn't a threat, but also that she could not help him. The only ways she knew to live forever dealt with dark rituals or necromacy, the sort of stuff she did her best to avoid. "I'm sure you can find someone who does, but I don't exactly fuck around with life expectancies. Trust me, you'd be dealing with a very different witch right now if I did." He probably though she meant she'd be a different sort of person, but that wasn't it at all. If she did, her mother would still be alive. He'd be talking to the elder Barnes matriarch, rather than her. She'd be off at college or graduated and working somewhere else.