milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Tom doesn't look so hot, honestly.

Unless "hot" means "slumped in a booth in sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, drinking coffee and looking like he hasn't gotten much sleep lately."

In which case, Tom is freaking smoking.

He's got his back to the front door. It's deliberate.

[tinytag: thy kingdom come, cerberus]

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"Oh." Beat. "What, you were home-schooled?"

"I had tutors... and my Dad."

Her fingers fidget, and she adds, "I've seen high schools a couple times."

When er. On the job.

"Huh. Okay."

Tom mentally files her under rich kid, though it's weird that she hasn't gone to college.

"High school's completely different, anyway."

"Oh."

Beat.

"You do sleep in high school?"

"Through every class, if you can help it."

She nods. In the few times she'd been in a high school, she definitely had seen people sleeping in class.

And then, somehow her mind comes back full circle. "But you... don't sleep now?"

He sighs.

"I had a nightmare, okay?"

"Oh."

She still seems a little confused, and asks, "Because... someone else did it or... just a normal one?"

Blink. "Because someone else did what?"

"The nightmares..." she answers, in a 'why do I have to state the obvious' way.

It takes her a minute to realize that this might not be obvious. "Like with telepathy - people like that can give you nightmares."

"Oh. Okay."

He frowns down at his coffee. "I -- have no idea. How would you tell the difference, anyway?"

Elle shrugs. She's kind of fuzzy on that part.

"But you'd probably keep having them if the person was stalking you or something."

". . . Wow," he mutters. "That's comforting. That's really comforting. A stalker would be just what I need."

Elle doesn't seem all that concerned for him.

Offhandedly, "I haven't met any telepaths in here... and Candice wouldn't be nightmares..."

So, if just normal bad dreams is much more comforting.

"Wouldn't put anything past this place, though."

A sidelong look. "You seem to know a lot about it."

Elle actually laughs, but manages to keep it brief.

"It's not really my thing."

His eyebrows go up.

"Meaning?"

"I'm not a telepath."

The duh is clear enough, even if she doesn't say it.

"I'm different."

". . . Okay," slowly, "that's vague and unhelpful."

Elle would point out that he's kind of one to talk, but... she doesn't really care.

And she'll never resist the opportunity to be a showoff, anyway. So she just smile and holds out her hand, opening it quickly to let sparks crackle over her palm for a moment. They fizzle out quickly.

Tom jumps back.

"Holy shit!"

"It's ok," she says as she draws her hand back. "I can control it."

Ok, to a lot of people, that's not entirely comforting.

"Jesus, I'd hope so."

"So you can't do anything?"

Here or even on the outside, it's not her first assumption most of the time.

"What, like -- like that?" He shakes his head. "Hell no."