Rat × The Streetcorner Stargazer
Hits it off with anyone, and once the talk's done, quietly marks a note on each of them in its chest.
The Streetcorner Stargazer hits it off with anyone, easy and warm on the corner. The Rat quietly marks a note on each of them once the talk is done. So you fit into any crowd and read every face in it, an easy manner with a radar running behind the eyes. The quick wits fit the friendly surface with a count of who is who.
Wide circle, sharp eye: that is the pairing. You talk to strangers like old friends and walk away knowing exactly who can be leaned on and who cannot, the tally filed neat in your chest. Altair is the Cowherd, the everyday star of ordinary warmth, and your warmth is real, the corner-talk genuine. People like you on sight. They just never see the ledger you keep on them.
Here is the lamp the Rat leaves dark. You count so much that you keep a card back even in a warm talk, and no one ever reaches the one light burning in your own dark. You read everyone and let no one read you. The First Quarter moon under a streetlamp is half lit, bright enough for company, dim enough to hide the rest. Some corner, let one person past the radar.
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A mirror, not a prophecy. It reflects you as you are right now. How you walk is still yours to choose.