Panda's still laughing, a bewildered little titter. The combination of the cards moving and the complexity of the story -- relative to her own drowned brain -- is like being tickled, sort of. Like trying to fight back and not quite managing. It's fun. Now and then she nods, trying very hard to follow. The road to hell is paved with good intentions!

"The King got what he deserved," she decides, an opinion she only states based on the feel of the silence as she runs her fingers over the cards. "You can't even conceptualize an incept... incentive... if you don't..."

Pan trails off, distracted by the task at hand. I'm a psychic like Heathcliff, she thinks in tipsy tones. Then she pulls a card with a "sneaky" little smirk, staring at it with great intent. The edges are kind of swaying off to the right.

"Okay," she says out loud, as though in conference with herself. "I'm definitely not going to forget this."

Six of Hearts. Six of Hearts. Six of Hearts.

The card is slipped back delicately, and Panda's back to nursing her drink again. Six of Hearts.