Felix is stuck in a never-ending cycle of job applications, rejection letters, and the crushing weight of existential dread. When a job offer magically appears in his inbox with a salary so ridiculously high it could pay off his student loans and bu...
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Felix stared down at the list Cain had shoved into his hands, the paper crisp, expensive and official-looking, like something you'd get from a government agency. He was almost tempted to smell it; mostly out of curiosity, partly because he didn't know what "fresh letters pressed with dried ink" smelled like. That was, like, a thing in old novels. It was labeled "Wishmaking Basics: Tier 1," with a curly, looping script—and it looked handmade, so! He squinted at the text even more. Honestly, it sounded like a bad tutorial level in a video game. He skimmed the first few lines, eyes narrowing at the jargon.
"Alright, so this is the part where you tell me I've got to make someone's dream come true, right? I grind a lot in—oh, don't look at me like that—in game, so, give me your best shot. Also, do I get points for style? Because I could really use some extra credit here," Felix said, flicking the paper like it might bite him. He then gestured to his meticulous outfit; provided, of course, since he left all his stuff at home. Raiding their coffers was the least they could give him.
Cain rolled his eyes from where he leaned lazily against a pillar, playing with his shaggy hair. Did he even use conditioner today? "Ehh, you're not at a gala. The cuffs are nice though. Regardless, these wishes come with rules. You need to focus on intent, channeling your energy, and making sure the wish is truly what the person desires. You're not just a genie—"
"I'm a middle manager," Felix huffed, folding the paper into an airplane and tossing it at Cain, who deftly caught it.
Cain smirked, crushing the airplane in one hand. "A middle manager with responsibilities, sure. And a whole lot of magical, beautiful, out of this world paperwork if you screw up." He pointed the airplane at my face, pretending that he'd throw it.
"No, no, I looooove paperwork," Felix drawled, missing the older man's sad airplane throws. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the pendant Cain had given him. The thing practically hummed against his skin, and he couldn't tell if it was excitement or nerves bubbling up. Maybe both.
Cain pushed himself off from the pillar and motioned for Felix to follow him. "We've got a lot of ground to cover, and I want to see how you handle a real wish. It's in the paper; "Unlock the wishes to be a True Maker", real ye olde stuff. But you have been playing in the kiddie pool up until now—we gotta see if you can swim in the deep end. Don't worry! I'm a dependable lifeguard." For someone who sleeps half the day away, this man has a damn mouth.
Felix snorted, imagining the Wishmaker lounging around with a tan while a kid or two got swept away by a wave. Yeah, right. The younger man still trailed after him, the stone corridors of the headquarters feeling strangely warm and oppressive. "You know, you make this sound a lot less glamorous than I imagined. Am I at risk?"
