Think of the Devil

Ten

The air in the apartment felt thick with tension, nearly crackling in the heat of Matt's intensity. Jane had been able to feel it before she entered as she texted Alberto she was safe from her front door. It was apparent that Matt had regained his full range of senses, and it augmented the power of his thoughts. She hadn't heard him so clearly, so loudly, since the first time they met. Just like that day, it was hard to pin down exactly what he was thinking. His emotions were so overbearing; it was like trying to make sense of song lyrics playing through a blown out speaker.

When she stepped inside she found him in her spot again, dressed in his familiar black vigilante outfit. In the faint light of her lamp he held his head in his hand, elbow perched on the arm of her chair. She could literally feel his head throbbing from across the room, and she caught flashes of the fight in a parking garage he'd just escaped. She winced as she stepped towards the kitchen, kicking her shoes off.

"Honey, I'm home," she called sarcastically.

He hummed, almost a chuckle, and played along. "Hey, sweetheart. Dinner is on the counter. I made your favorite."

Jane glanced over from the table. Next to the fridge sat an unopened bottle of vodka, and she moved to examine it. Top shelf stuff, not the kind of thing Alberto sold. Definitely more expensive than the kind she usually treated herself to. "Oh, darling, you shouldn't have," she continued. "What's the occasion?"

She heard him shuffling around, so she turned to watch him sit up. Matt grimaced a bit as he shifted, the aches and pains in his body more pronounced than before. Once he sat upright he broke the illusion, though his tone remained jovial. "I thought you might need a drink to deal with me today. Figured you deserved the good stuff."

"Yeah, how'd you afford this without a day job?" she teased. When he didn't speak up, she searched his silence for the answer. He hadn't bought it. From what she could tell, he'd swiped it from a storeroom. A storeroom with many other fancy bottles with very powerful smells. A store room in an apparently fancy hotel. She frowned in confusion.

"I've had a busy day," he said, vaguely hinting at an answer. He seemed a bit nervous to talk about it.

Jane started going through the motions. Tonight she grabbed two glasses instead of one, poured heavily in them both, and carried them with her bottle of aspirin to the couch. She sat on the opposite end from Matt, trying to leave some space between them. After shaking two tablets into her hand she reached out to him. It took him a second to accept them, asking, "What are these?"

"It's just aspirin," she responded. She offered him the vodka next. "I have ibuprofen if you'd prefer."

"These are fine, thanks." He waited until she had her own aspirin in hand before he popped them into his mouth, raising his glass as a means to cheers. She copied him and they each took a swig.

Matt couldn't help but make a face, making her laugh. "Ugh, I hate vodka," he muttered.

The spirit was actually pretty good, at least it was to Jane. She could already tell she wouldn't need quite as much to dull her senses. "Sorry it isn't the gasoline you get at Josie's," she retorted, making him chuckle again.

They let the moment linger for an extra beat, enjoying the light-hearted air between them. But that intensity still hung around them, stifling whatever good humor was left. She took another sip as he considered where to start. When he felt stuck she commented, "I guess I should congratulate you on getting your senses back."

While it should've made him laugh, it seemed to startle him instead. His tension tightened up, coiling around the problem at its center. "Yeah," he mumbled. "A real gift from God."