"Huh?! Stop shouting Cedric," complains a gravelly voice from behind the wagon cover. "Heck man, it's almost as bad as your constant l-"
The voice stops as Cedric starts playing. When the tune finishes, a man's head emerges into view. "Hey, that's pretty good," he says with a slightly surprised expression. "Not the noise you usually make."
The weathered face looks around and notices Ementha for the first time. "Oh, hello miss. I'm Tring. You're a fortune-teller, are you?" By the way he asked the question, Tring doesn't seem all that impressed by the idea.