She eyed him.<br/><br/>“So you have scars? Claw marks? Bite marks?”<br/><br/>She made certain the black-lidded jar was well-set, crushing the grass beneath it. With a glance, she checked that the other jars were already open; they were. Finally, she stood and faced him. She removed his necklace as well as her own and put them away; she took the salt and put it away as well as her own, too. Then she straightened her dress.<br/><br/>“Hold still for a moment.”<br/><br/>She pressed her thumbs to his temples, firmly but not hard enough to hurt, and slid them slowly across his forehead until they nearly (but not quite) met in the centre. That was more personal ritual than necessity, for she only had to touch him; but the face was the easiest illusion to break, as its features were constantly shifting, and she’d just gotten used to doing it this way over the years both in practice and on a job.<br/><br/>“Uoy era em, dna I ma uoy,” she said. “Ew era eno, ew era eht emas.”<br/><br/>A shiver passed between them. It wasn’t the poltergeist but the spell. She stepped back from him. To him, she now looked like his mirror image; to her, he now looked like his. It was uncertain who the poltergeist would see but one thing<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>certain: the poltergeist would be seeing double. That would confuse it long enough for her to quickly finish her spells…<br/><br/>Ah. And now it was starting. The poltergeist hadn’t yet arrived but he<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>nearby. The air began to rapidly grow colder, until Morgan could see her breath and that of her guest. Which begged another question, actually.<br/><br/>“I never did catch your name,” she mentioned out of curiosity.