Re: floating above; malefactor/the boss
He had a shiny penny in his hand. The coin gleamed with coppery brightness beneath Main Street's temporary glow of neon. He flipped the coin from finger to finger effortlessly. The trinket danced between digits, shining in obeisance for the man with the long fingers and the entitled strut.
Above him, the broom swayed and the verdant young man balanced. It was an interesting trick, a new type of canary to house in a gilded cage and expect them to sing. Not that the man was an unfair man. He took and he gave. Everything had a price, and he had a thick wallet. Even here, where no one seemed to be suffering from the aches of empty bellies and gnawing intestines, there would be a pricetag. There was always a pricetag, and he made it his business to learn the prices and haggle them down. Desperation was the best bargaing chip for a haggler, and the man in the suit could haggle with the best of them. A businessman? No. He was a magnate. He was a ruler. The was The Boss.
They were the boss.
"People always come when I call," he said, voice low and booming and the smile a borrowed one on a young face. "Do you need that thing to fly?" he asked, copper penny disappearing to allow for long fingers gesturing toward the broom's wood. "Limiting, isn't it?" he asked, enigmatic smile sitting atop the booming bass of his voice. When he spoke, it was as if the earth trembled beneath his shoes. Power resided beneath those pinstripes. They were magnetic, and they held out a hand with an upturned palm to help the emerald canary from his perch.