[ This gets a skeptical narrowing of the eyes that suggest the Medicine Seller rather disagrees about Constantine being right as anything after a hell hound bit a chunk out his leg, but as a patch job, it will have to do. Packing away is supplies, he hefts the medicine box onto his back.
The light from the medallion does intrigue him enough to peer in for a closer look, despite the reek of dog spit. ]
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The light from the medallion does intrigue him enough to peer in for a closer look, despite the reek of dog spit. ]
How useful. Is this one of your own making...?