The Sorceror

the good side

She sits on the sofa one space away from him, spindly hands fidgeting in her lap, a finger occasionally lifting up to fulfill a nervous tic by scratching her head, or pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

Across the sofa from her, he sits cross-legged, arms openly splayed and resting on the old, weathered leather. He looks at her intently, waiting for her to begin when she's ready.

After a couple more minutes of nothing but the sounds of their breathing, and the traffic outside faintly rumbling, she finally talks.

"I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do."

"How do you mean?"

"I dunno." She turns to face him directly. "I mean...is there some specific way I'm supposed to start this off? Some...ritual, or whatever?"

"If there is, nobody told me."

"Sorry. Had to check."

He smiles, swatting gently at the air as if to fan her apology away. "It's fine, it's fine."

She smiles back, starting to ease slightly. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"I know as much as what your friend told me about your situation," he replies, picking up the china saucer and tea-filled cup from the small table next to him.  

"Right, OK."

He sips. "Care to fill in the blanks for me?"

"Well, it's um...actually, wait a minute."

"Yes?"

"Are you actually who you say you are?"

"I've never said who I am or who I'm not."

"Yes, but other people have."

"And what do they say?," he asks, bringing the cup to his lips once more.

She twists her entire body around to face him now. "They say you have powers. Nothing to do with mind games, or misdirection, or anything like that, but...actual powers."

He smirks. "And do these people say anything else?"

"Ugh, look, just please stop doing that," she says, rolling her eyes aggressively. "All I want to know is if what they say is true is true, or whether you've pulled some massively elaborate con, and tricked these people out of their money, and whether I need to perhaps start dialing nine a few times to stop you from doing it to me."

His amiable expression slips to one of legitimate concern, and he straightens up to look her dead in the eye. "Jesus, hey, no, I get it, I get it! Just, um...well, okay. Is there something that would absolutely, definitively prove it for you? As, like, a small example. What would you like me to do? Anything, anything at all, and I will do it."

She sits back, exhaling heavily as she stops to think.

He stares at her as she does so.

And then he breaks the silence:

"Mind your head."

Before she can properly react, the sofa has quite suddenly levitated up to the ceiling, with both of them still sat on it.

She gasps and shrieks in surprise, eyes boggling at the sight of her legs dangling over the edge of the cushion.

"Holy fuck!," she squeals as he laughs raucously at how stunned she looks, before she giggles along with him, too.

 "Jesus, I didn't even say any--"

"So I guess nobody told you about the mind-reading thing, then," he says.