Esmeralda felt the man’s curiosity. In her mind, through her inner eye, she could see it dance off him in tendrils of light composed of his energy. The more she tuned into it the clearer it became, until it sat on her tongue-- thick, metallic, with a twang of… something. It lingered at the tip of her tongue, an unnameable marker in his energy that was uniquely him.  Everyone had this. She could feel them, buzzing off in the dis-...<br/><br/>She nearly swayed forward, her expanding senses, apart of her psionics,  threatening to overwhelm her and  take her  clean out of her body. She really had to stop doing that. She snapped her attention back to herself, her jaw squaring as she concentrated fiercely on the cool touch of the glass under her finger tips.  Esmeralda angled herself off from the man, giving his curiosity the cold shoulder.  She seemed content to continue doing just that. Then he stole her cake.<br/><br/>Her mouth parted in shock. She watched, incredulous, as the shop keeper was quickly forced to decide who to please— the well-dressed man with a warm demeanor or the ragged traveler that spoke with glares and not words. It was a no brainer, really. He walked away to fulfill the man’s order. Esmeralda was left wavering in place. Her stomach twisted in pain. She was hungry now, famished, and she knew it wouldn’t be so easily ignored this time.<br/><br/>Her pride wanted to send her walking out the door, her hunger had her debating jumping over the counter and stealing it all. Before she could do either, the baker had returned with his tube of baby blue icey and the stranger turned to address her. She blinked up at him, her anger dissolving to mistrust.<br/><br/>“That can’t honestly work on people,” she croaked, her voice husky from lack of use. He sat down. She did not follow. Instead she shifted her weight from one sore foot to the next, a hip jutting out and her arms crossing over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at him, her attention catching on the corner of his hip, the tip of his boots, before she pulled her chin up to stare him down. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to steal other’s cakes?” Probably not. She thought it was common sense though.  She reached forward, one hand holding the swinging satchel at her hip, and the other going to take the cake. It was heavier than expected. She caught it with her other had and with an annoyed huff, walked it a table over and sat down with it.<br/><br/>“I don’t owe you for this,” she clarified hotly, peeling off her bag and stepping her foot in through the strap to anchor it besides her, to deter theft.