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"Really?" Autor hisses at the ceiling. The boy places his hands on his hips and glances from there to where his door is supposed to be.

After a moment's indecision, he heads to the library.

Catch him here or there, or on T-Minus.

heirDrosselmeyer signed on.

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"Who're you talking to?"

Elle's sitting on a nearby table, apparently thinking the answer is someone in the rafters, though she hasn't found this mystery person yet.

"Small gods," he murmurs, still glaring.

Then he turns to her. "So is sitting on tables a regular thing for you?"

[OOC: Apolgies for the delay!]

"How small are they?"

She only ignores his question because hers is obviously more pressing.

"Smaller than they'd like to be, I'm sure," Autor says, waving a hand. "Frankly, they're theoretical anyway and I'm Bound either way."

He does raise a brow at the table-question-evasion.

So they're... not actually up there.

Well, Elle will stop looking now.

"Yeah."

"Your turn," the kid says, tilting his head. "Are tables a regular seating arrangement for you?"

Beat.

"Yeah."

She just said it.

"All right," Autor says, momentarily stymied. "Well, you started this conversation. Was there something else you wanted from me, or just... watching my fit of temper?"

That's not fidgeting. Surely not.

"I wanted to know who you were talking to."

Beat. "Because I couldn't see them."

If there are people in the ceiling she can't see, she'd like to know.

"Theoretical gods are often invisible," he says, and places the tips of his fingers on her table. "Not all the time, of course--but some manner of manifestation tends to prove them less than theoretical. I imagine they avoid it when they can."

"You know real gods can be invisible, right?"

"Of course. Any god can be invisible," he says patiently, "unless they can't."

The boy adjusts his glasses. "If you're a god, I can't tell. I'll have to count you as a theoretical one."

Edited 2013-08-12 04:23 (UTC)

"You don't have to be a god to be invisible."

Then again, she's also not invisible.

"Can you turn invisible?" Autor asks. "While that's obviously not proof of theoretical godhood, it would still be interesting."

He doesn't add that she probably wouldn't tell him that she could turn invisible just because he asked, because she theoretically may.

"Theoretically."

She waits a moment, and then adds, "No."

"So what do you do, theoretically?" he asks. "This is Milliways; no one gets here without being special in someway."

It gets another pause.

But then, she holds out her hand, palm up, and lets a few sparks snap over her skin.

"Ooh," he murmurs, leaning into to get a better look. "That's gorgeous. Did you manifest this power at birth or have it thrust upon you? Are you creating this electricity or just manipulating what's around you?"

She doesn't manage to suppress a small smile.

"It's genetic," she answers. "But it didn't show up until I was older."

Elle lets the sparks intensify, until they form a ball of light above her hand.

"And I'm making it."

"Oh, nice," Autor says enviously, adjusting his glasses. "Does it exhaust you after a time, or are you tapping into a limitless well of energy somehow? Given that you can control the intensity, I assume you can control the arc and possibly the spread?"

He doesn't mention the endless ways to weaponize this or ask how quickly she thinks she can kill a man. He's found that people are sensitive about that sort of thing, and she probably already knows, if at least theoretically.

"I have to do a lot more to get tired."

She shrugs her left shoulder.

"Mostly I get hungry."

Autor tilts his head, glancing between the lightening and her face. "How long can you sustain it, then? How many volts can you produce?"

"I don't always count."

Elle closes her hand, and the sparks die out.

She doesn't sound that bothered by it, but - "You ask a lot of questions."

Autor adjusts his glasses. "I've met many small gods that way."

"By... asking a lot of questions?"