What followed was possibly the most pretentious coffee-pouring demonstration in human history.Bryn watched in sleep-deprived disbelief as Giles explained the proper angle, the correct distance from cup to pot, the optimal pouring speed, and something about respecting the coffee’s natural flow that Bryn was pretty sure he’d made up.
“There,” Giles finished.“Now you try.”
Bryn picked up the pot and splashed the coffee into his cup without following any of Giles’ instructions.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Am I?That doesn’t sound like somethingBryanwould do.”
“Bryan also wouldn’t look like he got into a fight with his pillow and lost.”
“My pillow,” Bryn said with dignity, “was actively hostile.I think it was stuffed with the hopes and dreams of other executive assistants who didn’t meet your standards.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Giles’ face.“Your hair is a disaster.”
“I will deal with my hair when I have a shower.After food and coffee.”Bryn grabbed a muffin.“I have priorities.”
“Hmm.”Giles pushed a small silver case across the table.“You’ll need to take another capsule in about two hours.”
“I hate you.”
“So you keep saying.Bryan would never say that to his boss.Not within earshot, anyway.”
“He probably has a dart board with your face on it in his very expensive apartment.Or maybe a voodoo doll to stick pins in.”
“Page thirty-one,” Giles said, returning to his tablet.“Bryan has family money.He lives in a penthouse in Manhattan.No dart boards.”
Bryn dropped his head onto the table.“I’m going to need a lot more coffee.”
“Pour it properly this time.”
“I’m adding ‘proper coffee pouring’ to the list of things I’m going to make you regret teaching me.”
“That’s more like it,” Giles said with what could have been approval.“Your threats should be subtle and coffee-related.”
“My life sucks.”Bryn poured another cup.
“While we’re alone, I’ve been meaning to ask… How have your abilities been developing?”
Bryn tensed.“You mean since you spent three years trying to break them?Or me?It was hard to tell which.”
“Both, perhaps.But it worked, didn’t it?You’re a stable, functioning adult, well quasi-adult, and you’re still alive.”
Bryn went quiet for a moment, remembering the endless training sessions, the pain, the humiliation.Giles’ teeth in his vein.“Not sure stable is accurate,” he said.“But I suppose it worked.When I touch someone, I can switch easily from memory to intent to truth.I don’t get overwhelmed.Still get headaches, though.”
“And the physical contact?You’ve learned to manage that better?”
“You mean can I handle being in crowds without having a mental breakdown?Mostly.The gloves help.”Bryn reached for a piece of toast.“Accidental contact isn’t so easy to control.”
“Show me,” Giles said, extending his hand across the table.“Take a look at my strongest memory.”
Bryn stared at him.“Seriously?”
“Consider it a final test before today’s performance.”
With a sigh, Bryn reached out and grabbed Giles’ wrist.He closed his eyes.“Fuck, Giles…your strongest memory is of tasting my blood for the first time.”He pulled his hand away.
“Very good.”
