Re: log: antique store - louis, misha, and damian
"I don't think there's any real influence," he said. "It's more like...sleight of hand." He felt inside the pocket of his trousers, where there were still a few coins lingering, fallen out of his wallet. He produced a penny between thumb and forefinger. They were too busy necking to watch, no doubt, but he went through the motions of the trick anyway, sliding a hand over the penny again and again. "If you're going to make a coin disappear, you want the audience to be staring at nothing but the place where your fingers meet the metal. Nowhere else. They think that by watching the coin, they can see how the trick is done, but the trick is taking place elsewhere." His hand slid across again, and the penny disappeared. "Their attention is what's important. If their fondest desire walks up in front of them, but they're too busy playing with their phone, it isn't much good, is it? What's the point of giving someone what they want? Why does anyone give gifts? The reaction. The look on the recipient's face. The giver can say they give out of the kindness of their heart, but they are only craving that gratifying moment of surprise and pleasure."
Somewhere around the time the penny disappeared, someone else had appeared in Louis' chair. There was no transition - like the coin, he was there, then gone. This person was a few inches taller than Louis, less lean, with skin the color of milk and a suit of brushed silk, midnight-black, an loose white bowtie hanging around its neck.
It had a cigarette between its fingers where the coin had been. The room was still cool, but it smelled a little heady, like fresh fruit and incense, or a young bright wine. "Don't mind me." The cigarette was already lit, hand-rolled from fragrant black paper. "Go on."