Oh, to be one of many - to blend into a crowd. It was never a specialty Mercy associated with herself. As a woman with what felt, to her, like centuries of self-awareness, Mercy knew to blend into the throngs of people wandering about their daily lives, one must wander with wild abandon. Exude complete disinterest in the other individuals around, exhaling the idea anyone really pays attention to anyone else, really, in the first place. But oh, the seductive idea of blending in to a crowd.

To be frank, she knew herself to be quite the opposite: easily picked out of a crowd.

What was it about people who were so easily able to strike the attention of others? Mercy often found that particular question tip-toeing its way into her general stream of consciousness.
Was it in the square, proud way they carried their shoulders? Was it in the way they could hold another's gaze without the nerves, the discomfort catching someone's eye usually caused? Or was it something completely, entirely different? Was it in their energy, so easily nudging another's without their awareness?

Mercy enjoyed people watching for this very reason. Her favorite destinations, pastimes, and locations included those where people watching was ripe with excitement. Malls, parks, food halls... all of them amused Mercy, especially because those specific locations were often ones that others went to people watch, too. They didn't realize they, too, were being watched. Or maybe they did. That kind of speculation entertained her, so she made it a point to frequent all of them and vary her people-watching-posts to ensure prime entertainment.

The park Mercy found herself seated at was fortunately very busy. People and supernaturals of all walks of life were ripe for watching. Though it had been a long few days, Mercy had been looking forward to a quiet afternoon by herself for her favorite activity and a crowded day at the park provided just that. Before she left her home that morning, she'd found a sense of irritability touching the joints of her bones, unfortunately infiltrating every effort she made. Making her tea, getting dressed, making her second cup of tea, when the cats got underfoot, and so on and so forth. Each effort felt forced, dressed in a robe of her bad attitude and impatience though every step of her daily routine brought her closer to some inner peace. With a sigh, Mercy seated herself on an unoccupied bench where the views yielded youngsters blossoming with public displays of affection, silly children romping away from their mothers, and all sorts of eye-candy for her to watch while she ate the turkey and pesto sandwich wrapped carelessly in her bag.

Before Mercy was able to dig into her sandwich, she heard a soft but pointed voice aimed to discuss something with her. She wasn't quite into her people watching venture just yet, and so the voice quickly took her attention away from the sandwich. Her eyes were unfocused for just a moment as she locked on to the source of the question pointed at 'you, witch', before a slow smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Oh, what a delight.

The question registered and Mercy felt her breath leave her in the form of an endearing snicker. Whomever the creature addressing her was held an air of immortality, the supernatural aura flitting over the edge of her skin in a way that encouraged goose bumps to surface... regardless of the humidity. With another sigh, as if to ponder the question, Mercy tilted her head and followed the gaze of the 'young' woman addressing her.

She followed the individual's gaze, looking to follow her eyes to where a woman was wearing a set of overalls that, according to Mercy's judgement, were far too short to be called overalls. Regardless, she was amused with the way the individual addressed her, viewed the lady wearing the too-short-overalls, and the way her people watching effort was shaping up.

Clothes these days, truly, were a little ridiculous.

The way the individual asked a question about what they were struck Mercy as interesting. Were they too new to this area or this country to have an idea of what the fashion statement might be? Or was it that they were older, far older, and had no idea what might be in style now? She chose to think it might be the latter, and with a wry smile, reshaped her expression to something much more akin to amusement than the frustration she'd felt this morning.

"That, my friend, is a set of overalls. Though," Mercy said, musing aloud, "If you ask me, they're short enough to be called something else. What, I couldn't tell you."

Did she make a move to ask about why the individual didn't know what the overalls were? No, she thought, that might be inappropriate. Instead, she made room on the bench beside her incase the newcomer would like to sit and discuss the fashion statements of 2022.

"I might ask you not to point, only if to keep my people-watching efforts covert," Mercy began, re-wrapping her sandwich. " But dare I ask should this be rude: are you from the area? Or, rather," Mercy asked with another wry but welcoming smile," This century?"

Mercy