The watcher was a woman wearing casual clothing. She didn't look to be anybody too important, rather she looked inconspicuously average, with her black jacket and sweatpants, straight black hair, topaz blue eyes and angular face. She sat on a bench not too far away, drinking from a ­blank, personal mug of coffee. Her gaze was unnoticeable, her presence negligible. But she was watching all the same. They looked to be having fun, playfully practicing their magic; the Fate Weavers weren't exactly about having fun, and the watcher would have to see what kind of capabilities they really had before she offered them the chance to visit a Fate Weavers office.