showyousomethingnice | breakfast of champions (Reo, Haley)

breakfast of champions (Reo, Haley)

[After this.]

Reo spent extra time on his beauty regimen this morning, contouring and concealing and lining his eyes a touch more heavily than usual, because he didn't exactly get much sleep. He spent the night with the brief but life-changing conversation with Ms Dresden echoing in his head; he gave up on homework early on in favor of questions about magic - how it works, how a person uses it, how common it is.

Around midnight, he focused in on her comments about the Laws, went very still for a moment as several connections came together in his mind, and sat down to make a list of names. He made the list several times over before finally splitting it into categories, eventually putting his pen down with a sigh almost an hour later.

He'd attempted sleep after that, but what little he'd gotten had been broken up by dreams that shoved him back into wakefulness. He gave up at around six and got up to shower and dress. Then, with nothing else to do, he went to Kelly's Diner, arriving nearly half an hour early for his meeting with Ms Dresden.

Now he's sipping coffee restlessly, looking his list over and wondering how complete it is. If any of them know. If any any of them have been seen, might be in trouble, might be in danger.

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Reo opens his mouth to answer, then stops, his expression of distaste turning into one of startlement as Ms Dresden's words sink in.

"I'm sorry," he says, "did you say not all human?"

Maybe it should have occurred to him that magic isn't the only thing in this new world he's been dragged into. Maybe it should have, but it didn't.

"Yeah, I did. What, did you think we were the only intelligent species around?" Haley gives him a lop-sided grin. "I mean, most of them don't live here, in this dimension or plane or whatever you want to call it, but they can show up here, and sometimes they leave behind byblows who choose to stay in this realm rather than the Nevernever."

She ticks off on her fingers. "You've got faeries, angels and demons, Outsiders, the occasional werewolf...." And then she gives up on ticking off, and just says: "There's a lot of options for 'not human' if you're looking. Most of them probably wouldn't be playing basketball, but some kind of changeling faerie or younger werewolf might, I guess."

It - does seem obvious now, especially with Ms Dresden's blunt phrasing.

"Oh," he says, a bit faintly.

. . . there is a pause, in which Reo's expression becomes a bit self-conscious, wry, embarrassed, interested - it could be described any number of ways.

"Is," he asks slowly, "there such thing as a yaksha?" He pronounces it yasha, and sounds as though he doesn't know whether he wants the answer to his question or not.

"I don't know the name off-hand, but that doesn't mean there aren't any. I'd have to check." She polishes off her waffle, wiping up the last of the syrup with the last bite, trying not to leave any behind. "But honestly, if it's in a myth somewhere, odds are it's real or there's something like it out there, at least. Why? You think they might be?"

Yeah, that's definitely a self-conscious expression; Reo rubs the back of his neck with the hand not holding a fork, wishing already that he hadn't asked. It just seems childish, somehow.

"Ah," he says. "Some of us had nicknames back home. I was the Yaksha. Magazines again."

Then he shuts up and concentrates on his omelette, because he hasn't been eating as fast as Ms Dresden has and he doesn't want to keep her waiting.

Tact is not Haley's strong point, so she actually laughs at that. "Cute. Might be cuter if I knew what that was, but now I'm really going to look that up when I get home. Just for you." Maybe someday she'll even introduce him to Bob, and of course then deal with all the lewd comments the spirit is likely to make about fucking apprentices. As if she ever would.

"So what times do you have free?" she asks, putting them back on topic. "Depending on how much power you have, I'm going to need at least a couple hours, a couple times a week. If you have a lot, we might need more."

Reo blushes when she laughs. Definitely shouldn't have asked. Or at least, he could have waited. Or something.

Even if he does really want the answer.

He mentally flips through his schedule, glad for the distraction, as he finishes his last couple bites of omelette. He pauses unhappily over the blocks of time given to basketball practice - he hasn't yet decided what he's going to do about that; even if he isn't using black magic, it's hardly fair to play using any magic against people who can't do the same, but he'll lose his scholarship if he stops playing entirely to untangle that problem - before pushing them aside.

"Tuesday and Thursday mornings," he says, "and Fridays and Sundays are mostly open."

He's not at all concerned about giving up much of the free time he has. Life attending Rakuzan was so busy, between class and schoolwork and basketball and the health committee, that when he started college he hardly knew what to do with the extra holes in his schedule.

"Then let's plan on Tuesday and Friday for now, unless I'm off on some case or helping train some newbie Wardens, and if it turns out your talent's going to need more time than that, add in Thursday." Because Saturdays are, if she's lucky, about the only day she gets off. She's not giving that up unless she has to. She offers him a smirk. "There might be homework, though."

"All right."

He doesn't blink at the mention of homework; he's used to it, and anyway, it's not as though he isn't going to be doing some (careful) experimenting on his own time anyway. Not to mention all the work he's going to have to put into separating his magic from his basketball.

He takes his phone out of his pocket to add the standing appointments to the calendar app. Or, that's the plan, anyway, but it doesn't seem to want to wake up when he presses the button. He gives it a little frown.

Haley cranes her neck a little to see what the problem is, then realizes what he's trying to do and winces. "Oh. Yeah, forgot to mention that. Magic messes up technology. The more of it gets thrown around, the more likely things like that--" She points with her fork at the non-responsive phone. "--are to die on you. You, uh, might want to not bring that whenever you're coming to see me. And hope your talent isn't strong enough that more practice means it'll start happening to you, too."

. . . Reo tries not to look appalled, but he probably fails.

He needs his phone.

He needs the stuff on his phone.

How is he supposed to function without electronics?

"Yes," he says faintly after a slightly too long silence. "I'll be sure to leave it in my room."

Or its replacement, if it's really dead, and how is he going to explain that to his parents?

Don't ask her, she's never tried living with them. She finishes the last of her coffee and fishes out her wallet to leave money to pay. "If you have a car, and it's got fancy electronics in it too, that's gonna be a problem. I drive an old VW bug, all the moving parts are mechanical, so it does me all right. Or else I walk everywhere. Usually if it's not too long a trip, a taxi'll do all right. Don't let me near a computer, though. I've shorted out too many of those in my time to count, probably."

The possibility of having forced his will on other people and of not being able to use a cellphone to keep track of his life. He is beginning to wonder if there are any upsides to this magic thing. At least he doesn't drive.

He is distracted from any kind of self-pity starting to set in, though, when Miss Dresden brings out her wallet. He doesn't want to have to ask, but there really is no help for it, is there?

"I'm sorry," he blurts, "but I still don't quite understand what an appropriate gesture of gratitude is for some things here. Would it be acceptable for me to pay for your breakfast?" Considering that she is freely offering her time, energy, and knowledge to help him, not doing something to thank her would be unconscionably rude. Etiquette and appropriate behavior are important to Reo; not knowing exactly what that something should be has been bothering him.

She looks up from counting the bills still in her wallet, brows up at him skeptically. "Well, I won't say no-- but it'd just be this once." She sets the wallet down, but doesn't put it away. "There's one thing I probably ought to explain. This is, pretty literally, my job. I mean, not taking apprentices, exactly, but handling the magical problems of this city. I get an actual paycheck for it. So while I'm glad to be helping you out, and I'm being a lot more understanding of your situation than some of my coworkers, it's not just out of the goodness of my heart."

She smirks over at him a little, with a shred of bitterness to her voice, when she adds: "There's some who'd wonder how much of that I had, to begin with, and would think you were nuts for not looking for the angle."

If Reo looks a little relieved by her clarification, it's because he is. That she's being paid makes her a professional, which puts her in essentially the same category as every other teacher he's ever had, and one shows one's respect and gratitude to one's teacher by listening and working hard. He can do that.

Of course, he's also still going to pay for breakfast. The waitress, having seen Haley take out her money, comes by with the bill, and is only a little confused when Reo hands her his credit card instead.

"Constantly expecting the worst of people is unpleasant," he says, in the tones of someone who knows what he's talking about. "I prefer to avoid it when it's not necessary."

"Then maybe we can get along. It's not like you know all about my colorful past, anyway." She tucks her wallet away, and gets back to the matter at hand, for the moment. He can ask about her colorful past at a later date; she's not going to let him get into it right now. "So you're still set on trying the quick and dirty way of testing out your magic, right?"

Reo can certainly pick up on a topic closer when he hears one; he wouldn't ask, anyway, not with their relationship as it is. It wouldn't be appropriate.

"If you still find it acceptable," he answers.

She's used to American kids who like to know everything. Having someone who actually cares what's appropriate is pretty much alien to her. Even the fae would probably ask her questions if given an opening like that. So hey, either completely incurious or impeccably polite. Neither one is normal, around here, and it intrigues her a little. "If you don't mind knowing that what you see you won't ever forget. I don't know what the hell's in my head, but I doubt it'll be all that pretty. It might also wake up your actual Sight, if you have any-- that's the ability to see things as they really are, see magic clearly, and see through illusions. It sucks, most of the time."

Reo listens seriously to her warning, breaking his concentration only enough to sign the receipt when the waitress returns with his card. He may not really be able to grasp the enormity of what she's saying, but he can appreciate the importance she's imbuing it with.

"Will my Sight awaken eventually anyway, if I have it?" he asks.

"Yeah. This might just wake it up early, which could be good, could be bad. Could just be a thing, but I doubt it. Magic is really rarely neutral." She gulps down the last of her coffee, then climbs to her feet. "All right, come on, then, kid. Let's get outside and get this over with." She isn't a huge fan of soulgazing, but it is at least an efficient way to get a read on his character-- and for him to get a read on hers, which in its way is just as important if she's going to take him as an actual apprentice for long enough to get him going on his own.

Or longer, if it turns out he's got more power than he's been using.

Reo tucks his wallet away and stands to follow her outside.

He has that sense of calm satisfaction that he associates with a productive practice - yes, all he's really done so far is show up, with all the hard work still to come, but he has a clearer sense of what's going on now, and he knows that his fellow players in Japan will be taken care of.

(He anticipates a few interesting conversations in the near future. Has he exchanged numbers with everyone on that list, or at least everyone he'd care to be in touch with? He doesn't think so. He's making a mental note to tell Sei-chan that it's fine to pass his number on to the remaining Miracles who don't have it when he remembers the issue about phones and sighs. He doesn't know if he'll be powerful enough to start frying phones himself, but he can't imagine that Sei-chan won't. They'll have to start writing letters. How much do stamps cost in America? . . . for that matter, how much do they cost back home?)

So he looks a bit rueful, but not too concerned, when Ms Dresden stops them in the spot she's chosen for the soulgaze.

Basically, she's led him over to her car, because if nothing else, it's parked by the curb, and if he happens to fall over or lose his breakfast, there's grass one way and the gutter another way. He might wind up all right, of course, though even her last apprentice had to sit down pretty quickly after their soulgaze, and Haley isn't expecting Reo to be in her league. Not many people are in Molly Carpenter's league when it comes to potential.

"All right, this won't take very long, but it'll feel like a lot longer," she warns, holding up a hand to stop him, and somewhere between exasperated at his apparent lack of concern over her warnings, and looking forward to seeing him fall on his ass. "Ready?"

And at long last, she meets his eyes for more than a split second. It won't take long, from there.

Behind Haley's eyes is... fire. A lot of fire, actually. Some of it is red and searing and angry-looking, something that could appropriately be called "hellfire". Some of it is blue and flickering and somehow more gentle-looking. Some of it is black and oily, seeping in between the other two and back out again like flame made out of shadow itself. Some of it is green and greedy, coming up from below as if trying to sneak around the other colors.

And some of it is white hot and painful to even look at-- that part's at the very center of the flame, vaguely in the shape of a gawky, lanky, Haley-shaped woman. The shape has a staff, much like the one she'd carried the night before, and she continually swings and twirls it around like a weapon at different hues of flame, as if fending them off, beating them back, or maybe, if Reo can determine the pattern of rising and falling and which fire Haley's soul combats at any given time, trying to keep them all balanced.

It should come to the surprise of no one that, for Haley Dresden, Reo's soul takes the shape of a basketball court.

There's a game going on, a game which never ends played by players who never tire. There are far more than the standard ten players, with no visual markers to tell one team from the others, but neither of these is an obstacle: the game flows with a beautiful grace, all the players in perfect communication, and no one is losing.

The players are all the people who are most important to Reo, with a few of them as clearly identifiable as if he were there making introductions. Mibuchi Megumi, his mother, who gave him his hair and nose and determination; Mibuchi Satoshi, his father, who provided eyes and chin and compassion; his older sister, Mibuchi Seiko, Reo's idol and best friend in the world; Kiyoshi Teppei, the friend whose kindness in middle school was Reo's lifeline when he was surrounded by homophobic teammates; Akashi Seijuurou, who could, if their lives should take the right paths, become Reo's protection against White Court vampires, and whose left eye occasionally flickers from red to gold and back again. The others are no less important for their identities being obscured; if Haley cared to stay, she could learn all their names and stories and reasons why Reo wouldn't be himself without them.

The stands are full too, people who aren't as important to Reo as those on the court but who still leave their marks, good and bad, as they pass through his life. The spectators closest to the court are smiling as they watch the game - casual friends, teammates former and current, relatives Reo has never spent as much time with as either of them would like. Further back are acquaintances, and still further, shadowed by girders and catwalks, are those Reo never wants to see or think about again, but may never be completely rid of.

The court itself - well. It was probably whole and perfect once, reflecting the joy and enthusiasm of the players who run across it. Most of it still is, but where there were once lines of paint on the floor, there are now rotten trenches of corruption, roiling black and surely dangerous to any player who steps on them.

Or they would be, but whenever a player steps on or even crosses one, bright white light flares up, surrounding that player protectively until they've moved safely away.

(Reo may have done damage to himself, but he will not allow it to harm anyone else.)

The ball the players are playing with is the same energy as those flares of light, exuding concentrated power, leaping from floor to hand to basket and keeping the players light and joyous on their feet.

Reo himself is not on the court, or in the stands. Reo is on the sidelines, referee's whistle at the ready, watching the game with fierce protective love in his eyes.

Back in the real world, Reo staggers as the soulgaze breaks off, landing hard on his backside in the grass. He doesn't even notice the fall; he's occupied with touching his cheek, certain he'll find the skin blistered and cracked.

Balance the fire all you like; it still burns.

He stares up at Ms Dresden, wide-eyed and speechless.

On the whole, Haley doesn't care a whole lot about his important people. She notes a couple-- notes the ones he'd already given her the names of, in particular-- but she's more interested in what they're showing her than who they are. That, and the court itself, are what will tell her about the state of Reo's soul, and the strength of his magic. It is the first time she's seen this many people in anyone's soulscape, though, so that in itself is important. Apparently "people" are first and foremost in his mind.

The court itself tells her the rest. Yes, he has been using mind-magic on others. Maybe even outside the game, with or without his conscious knowledge. And yes, it has done him damage. Those lines are part of the lines of his thought pathways, and they run deep. She steps out of the way of one of the players-- over the line there, herself, but carefully doesn't touch it, just in case-- and watches the ball pass to another player. Basketball isn't something she knows a lot about, but this game is moving seamlessly, so his soul is at least still flexible. The protectiveness and love is a good sign, though he might need to learn to let somebody else run things eventually. Still, there's hope, here.

And power, yes. Not on her own level, but enough that she's a little surprised he hasn't fried his phone before now. He'll require some teaching, all right, and it might be possible to heal those trenches of dark magic, or at least make them a little less deep. She can work with this.

So she steps back, blinking back into herself, and after a brief shake of her head to clear it, she can't help but smirk at the sight of him falling on his ass. "Told you it'd be heavy."

Reo blinks for a few long seconds as his brain scrambles to remember first which language he's supposed to be speaking, and then how to speak it.

"Yes," he manages finally. "You did. I, I -" He pauses, searching for sentence structure, his thumb slowly stroking back and forth across the unburned skin of his cheek. "Did - not listen as, as well as I thought I had. I apologize."

The sun isn't positioned to be in his eyes, but he's still squinting up at her as he speaks, as if she's almost too bright to look at.

breakfast of champions (Reo, Haley)

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