"Hey, block that door. Don’t let anyone follow," I say firmly.
"Got it," one of them answers obediently.
At last, the two of us head down one level and exit through the same side entrance we used before.
There’s silence between us. As we walk, I rub my temples, the pressure still there, but I’m pretty satisfied. I did my job without making a single mistake. Blue wasn’t even brushed, let alone hit by a single drop of paint.
We cross the parking lot in silence. The limousine is still waiting, and we get in.
Only when I sit down does Blue finally speak.
"That was a stellar performance, and I appreciate it."
I lower my hands from my temples. He’s watching me.
"Does it hurt?"
"The more possible paths I generate, the heavier the strain. I guess you could call it… discomfort."
"Unfortunately, you should expect more days like this. This is what my life looks like. When I appear in public, there are often minor or major complications that I have to deal with. Preventing them will now be your responsibility."
His face is calm as he says it, but I can tell what he feels underneath is different. This isn’t something he takes lightly. It’s something that wears him down, something he has to live with whether he wants to or not, and he truly appreciates what I did.
"Well, you hired me for it. So I’ll try to take as much of that weight off your shoulders as I can. I can see you deal with a lot, and that’s… pretty damn rough," I say, surprising even myself.
Did I really just say that?
To someone I would’ve called my enemy yesterday, and now I care about how he feels? Where is this even coming from?
Blue studies me for a moment, a skeptical look crossing his face.
"I don’t need anyone’s sympathy. This is the life I chose, Gabriel," he says, his tone distant and cold again. "And I’ll live with it. I would appreciate it if you made it easier, but understand that this is my path, and I take responsibility for it."
I turn my head and look out the window. Why do I feel like what he’s saying doesn’t paint the full picture? It’s a mask, an armor.
Then he suddenly speaks again, predictably changing the subject.
"Can you explain what it’s like for you? Seeing five seconds ahead? Those scenarios? You knew the paint would hit us?"
I look back at him. His light sapphire eyes are fixed on me.
"I saw it as a short vision. It hit all the panelists, including you. It’s kind of like a split screen, an extra version of reality pushed five seconds ahead. I can prevent it. When I decide to act, the vision adjusts to what I’m about to do. I can sort of pause it for a second, look at different versions, and pick one. Then everything starts moving again once I follow through."
"You're fascinating." This time there’s genuine interest in his voice.
Wait. Did he really say that?
He looks at me like I’m… special. I blink and blush.
No one has ever looked at me like that before except my dad. I think heat rises to my face. And hardly anyone ever says anything nice to me. Marcel sometimes did, but usually to manipulate me. I doubt Blue has the same reasons, so was it genuine?
"It’s a very useful and powerful ability. It worked exceptionally well today. Good job."
There’s that feeling again. I earned that praise.
It gives me the same kind of rush I used to receive from Marcel’s approval, but this time it doesn’t come with anything else attached to it.
Actually, wait.
