Del Paso Heights was not the richest neighborhood in Sacramento, far from it. A mix of urban and suburban areas, an ethnically-diverse population. Thirteen rather liked it. The place had it's problems, certainly. A higher crime rate than most of the City of Trees (including some gangs issues) and a crack epidemic in the '90s that the neighborhood was still recovering from, there were those who would refer to it by unkind names. But there was a sense of community here that was hard to deny, and the Acanthus didn't regret finding her new Sanctum here.

After a day of marking routes through the region with stickers for the Right of Crossing (got to keep those uninvited Mages moving), she stopped into a local corner market. Jinx, her familiar, was already perched on the building's roof line when she parked her bike out front and went inside.

Much wasn't needed, just some milk, bread and fruit. As she paused to flip through the magazine rack, shopping basket hanging from one arm, Thirteen heard giggling and whispering. A glance from the side of her eye, and two figures gasped and ducked out of sight at the end of the aisle. A smirk curled the left side of her mouth. Kids playing games. She rolled her eyes, put the magazine back, and went to the checkout counter.

The old man behind the register was plump, balding and looked like he'd seen more than enough in life to give him an air of wisdom. Wordlessly, he began ringing up the Enchantress' purchases. As she stood there, equally silent, she heard the whispering again. A look over her shoulder, and there were the children again. A boy and a girl, both about the same age. Ten or eleven, maybe. Again, they vanished from sight, this time behind the ice machine.

"Don't mind them," the cashier said, drawing Thirteen's attention back before her, "They're just curious about the radio woman."

"Radio woman?" an eyebrow rose.

"Ain't you the redhead with the motorcycle that moved into the old radio station a couple weeks ago? Folks've been talking."

"Ach, right. Aye, that's me," she nodded. The Libertine hadn't realized how much the locals had noticed her around.

"Hm? You're Irish?" the old man asked curiously, noticing the accent.

An eye twitched, but she kept the annoyance from her voice. "Scottish." It was irritating, how many Americans couldn't seem to tell the difference. It got worse around St. Patrick's Day, which was in a couple days. Even this small market had some decorations up, posters of leprechauns and shamrocks, selling green beer.

"Ah, sorry. My mistake. You're a long way from home, huh?" he finished scanning the groceries and rang up the total. "None of my business, of course."

"True," she answered as she paid.

The old man watched her for a moment, noting how reticent she was. "Not gonna pry, but you can't blame folks for being curious. That station's been dead for nearly as long as I've run this store. It's... nice to see it come back to life." Groceries bagged, he handed them to the redhead.

Thirteen accepted the bag, and almost turned to leave. She paused, looking at the storekeep, then shrugged, "I'm just livin' there. Not gonna be broadcastin', if that's what you're thinkin'."

He nodded, "Shame. Still, good it's not completely lifeless. Hope the kids haven't been pestering you. The teens like to hop the fence and graffiti the walls."

"Not yet," she answered. Without looking back, she knew the two children were peeking out at her again. She allowed herself a small smile, "Graffiti's not bad, at least. Seen better, though."

"They ain't pros," the old man chuckled. "Well, I won't keep you. Don't be a stranger."

The Enchantress nodded, glanced at the door, then back, "I'm Violet. Violet Crawford."

"Reginald Jones. Call me Reggie," he smiled. "Come back soon, Violet."

"I will, Reggie." she nodded.

On her way to the door, she saw the kids again, now at the magazine rack and pretending to read some comic books while subtly eyeing her. Keeping up their little spying game. Thirteen paused, hand on the door handle, and playfully stuck her tongue out at them. They giggled.

As she stored her groceries in her motorcycle's saddlebags, she could hear Reggie inside, yelling at the kids to put the comics down and that this wasn't a library. Either buy them or go home. Up above, Jinx cawed in amusement.