The finesse of Clow's hands was another reminder to Marvortian, though he didn't handle them with the same obsessive nature, since this deck, newly acquired hadn't collected the near magnetic pull the Sibylline had.

He frowned and leaned forward, his lips thinning as he scanned the designs. All colorful and varied and unique, like the trumps he remembered, but almost none exactly like them.

"Only two." He paused to point them out in turn. "Death, and the Wheel."