[fourteen]
[Breathe in. Breathe out.]
[Gabriel turns the envelopes over in his hands again.]
[Breathe. Sigh.]
[He carefully tears the first envelope open. When his fingers touch the paper, he feels a tingling in the back of his skull. He shivers, the familiar touch of power coiling around his spine and settling into every nerve.]
[Mayfield had returned his telekinesis, though he could feel that it was a mere fraction of what it had been. Even so, it feels good to have it back. He feels more complete.]
[He takes less time with the second envelope, ripping through the closed flap and pulls the paper out. A sharp pain shoots through his skull and he leans over, dropping the papers. Hissing through clenched teeth, he holds his head in his hands as the pain starts to subside--and finds the source of his headache. Something smooth and cool imbedded in his skin, flush with the surface. There is some raised scarring around the port--just like Jeff, Christ, just like--and he winces. They'd wired him up when he was home; he hadn't known. If he ever returned home, for good, he'd have a whole new mess to deal with. Not that he hadn't known that before.]
Anyone want to get drunk?
[He only sounds half serious.]
[Gabriel turns the envelopes over in his hands again.]
[Breathe. Sigh.]
[He carefully tears the first envelope open. When his fingers touch the paper, he feels a tingling in the back of his skull. He shivers, the familiar touch of power coiling around his spine and settling into every nerve.]
[Mayfield had returned his telekinesis, though he could feel that it was a mere fraction of what it had been. Even so, it feels good to have it back. He feels more complete.]
[He takes less time with the second envelope, ripping through the closed flap and pulls the paper out. A sharp pain shoots through his skull and he leans over, dropping the papers. Hissing through clenched teeth, he holds his head in his hands as the pain starts to subside--and finds the source of his headache. Something smooth and cool imbedded in his skin, flush with the surface. There is some raised scarring around the port--just like Jeff, Christ, just like--and he winces. They'd wired him up when he was home; he hadn't known. If he ever returned home, for good, he'd have a whole new mess to deal with. Not that he hadn't known that before.]
Anyone want to get drunk?
[He only sounds half serious.]