Who: Mike and Nate Where: Dragonfly When: Evening, Tuesday, Nov 14 Status: Complete
There was a limit to how depressed someone could get, there had to be. Mike was staring down the barrel of that ever looming threat of another attack, both hoping it would be soon and dreading it. If it hit soon, at least it would be over but hell if he wanted it to happen. It had been almost five weeks. It usually didn't hit until five or six weeks after the last one so he should be clear for a few days. Still, he never went anywhere alone when it was time and it was depressing and stifling. Because he didn't have enough of that going on already.
It was Tuesday night but looking at staying home all the damn time for the next few days or even weeks made Mike not really care. Not that he generally cared about what day of the week it was, if he wanted to party, he partied. Fortunately Dragonfly was open, even if it wouldn't be open late.
He went by himself, not sure who else to hit up. Vicks was too young and he hadn't really talked to her since Jack died. That was probably fucked up but he couldn't think about it at all, couldn't think about Jack either or all the weirdness that had been going on. He just wanted to get drunk, listen to good music and hopefully end up talking about random nonsense with someone he didn't know very well. That was what bars were for, right?
He hadn't really been there since Halloween. The last two weeks had just gone by in a sort of a haze, unsurprisingly, and once he walked into Dragonfly he remembered he'd never gotten his hat. He wasn't sure he wanted it, he really hadn't liked being the Hatter once the drugs or spell or whatever the hell it had been had kicked in. At least his mood seemed to improve just by entering the bar, there was always something calming and sweet about Dragonfly and he was smiling faintly by the time he grabbed a seat by the bar.
Nate had learned how to read people well enough that he could usually tell the difference between someone that was generally happy and someone who was just feeding off the energy that Dragonfly gave off. It was easiest when they first walked in the bar, when the magic was just starting to work, but also in the way they held themselves. Plus, when you knew what someone looked like on a good day, the bad days still stood out, even with a shot of happy magic. That was how Nate knew something wasn’t quite right when Mike sat down and he slid down to his end of the bar.
“Long time, no see,” Nate said with an easy smile. He couldn’t account for the last time he saw most of his customers, but Mike was an exception. The last time Mike had been in was Halloween, and Nate had given him a ride home. They’d passed police cars on the way, unaware at that time that what they were seeing was the aftermath of a murder. And that the one who’d been killed was Mike’s friend, also the guy who’d been cursed along with Nate. The whole thing was still heavy in Nate’s mind, but he tried his best to push past it. “What can I get you, Mike?”
Mike gave him a faint smile and shrugged. "Just... Poor like half a glass of vodka and then add something sweet and random on top of that and keep it coming." He was stupidly relieved Nate didn't ask him how he was because he really didn't feel like making up a bullshit answer to that. Then again most people were used to him not giving bullshit replies so they usually regretted asking. It was different when it wasn't just his own shit dragging him down, now it was Jack being dead and Vicks being devastated as well as Jack's aunt and it was just a shit show. "I think I left my hat here," he said, leaning his arms on the bar. It was nice and clean and he wasn't sure how Nate kept the place this pristine when most bars got pretty sticky really fast. "You can keep it if you want it, I don't think I'll ever wear it again."
“Vodka sour?” Nate said, starting to whip that up for Mike. He’d keep them coming to a point, but he wasn’t letting Mike get stupid drunk again. Not that last time was his fault. He’d thought he was a pirate at the time, so he wasn’t exactly working the bar. If it hadn’t been for Sage, he wasn’t sure how he’d have accounted for anything that night. Thank god someone had been in their right mind. “I’m pretty sure no one wants to revisit their Halloween costumes from this year ever again,” he said. “I’ve got it if you want it, but if not, I’ll trash it.” Just in case. Nate still thought there was magic at work that night, even if it was something more powerful than he could wrap his mind around. Turning a whole town like that took skill and even if he knew some witches that were capable, none of them that he knew would do that to their hometown.
"Yeah, pour some holy water on it and burn it or whatever," Mike murmured, not really sure what someone like Nate did to break his curses - if his hat even was cursed. Who knew what had caused that crazy chain of events that night. "Have you gotten rid of the... cat problem?" he asked, not about to ask outright about curses, even if it wasn't too busy in there. He genuinely wanted to know though, the last thing they needed was for Nate's curse to kill him too. At this point Mike suspected it might have been the curse that killed Jack but it was one of those things he hated thinking about. It was all too weird and brain-hurting.
Nate didn't think he needed to go so far as to soak the hat in holy water, but burning it was probably the best idea. Just in case. He wasn't sure where the magic had come from, but he didn't want to risk it being tied to the costume itself. He'd gotten rid of his own for that very reason. When Mike alluded to the curse, his smile slipped just a little and he shook his head. "Not officially. I've got something keeping me safe in the meantime, but I have to wait till the new moon to get rid of it for good." Luckily, that was this week. Only a few more days and he could stop carrying around a clay disc for safety.
"How do you even know these things," Mike asked, a tiny bit exasperated, amused and very curious. He vaguely remembered talking about breaking curses with Nate on Halloween but he'd been so drunk, it was a bit of a blur. He picked up his glass to drink, grinning at Nate but then his grin faded and he looked down at his glass. His hands were tingling, pins and needles out of nowhere. "Fuck," he whispered. "I need to- I'm having an attack." God he hoped that wasn't it but if it was? He wasn't there with Vicks and his parents were far as fuck away. Jack was dead, Nate didn't know about the needles. "I need to call mom," he whispered urgently as he pushed himself off his chair but he only had a few minutes and Rebecca wasn't going to make it there before it hit so he didn't end up calling her, just stood by the bar looking lost and panicked.
Nate laughed a little and wondered how much of their Halloween discussion Mike remembered, but before he could answer things suddenly changed. Mike looked panicked, a response Nate rarely saw within Dragonfly, which meant it was serious enough to push through the charms. As soon as he said what was happening, Nate called out to one fo the waitresses and asked her to man the bar, immediately coming around to the other side to get Mike. “Come on. We can go in my office.” Which was small and cramped, but would be better than Mike having a full on attack in the middle of the bar. “Tell me what’s happening,” he said, urgently ushering Mike to the back. He wasn’t sure how long it would take Mike’s mother to get there, but he was worried it would be too long to help.
Somewhere underneath the panic Mike felt a rush of gratitude for the privacy but it was short lived in the wake of what was coming. "Okay," he whispered breathlessly and he had a feeling this was going to be a bad one since he couldn't relax and prepare himself. "I only have.... a minute. There's... shit my bag's by the bar. In my bag there's a needle in a -" he held his hands up to mimic holding the small case with his medicine. He might not expect an attack in his grace period but he was still paranoid and he always carried it with him. "It's like an epipen, I need you to stab me with it five seconds after I crash, okay?" God he hoped Nate was capable of that, he knew some people would just freeze up or freak out and what if for some reason he hadn't brought the case today? It wasn't supposed to happen yet.
It was one of those moments that Nate wished he could just freely use magic and pull the bag to him, but if Mike's bag slid across the floor without assistance he’d cause a bigger scene than he could handle. So he got Mike into his office, got him seated on the little loveseat there, and started back for the bag, but not without getting in another question. “Stab you where?” In the arm? In the heart? In the eye? That was probably the only place Nate wasn’t sure he could handle. No one should be stabbed in the eye. Nate didn’t spend a lot of time with needles, but he’d done worse with knives. As soon as he had his answer, he nodded and rushed out to the bar to grab Mike’s bag, heading back within seconds.
Mike was silently whispering 'fuck' to himself, over and over while Nate ran out of there. He peeled his sleeve up to his shoulder and tried to keep it together. This was so humiliating and annoying, it was bad enough to do this in front of his parents and doctors, he'd hated when it happened in front of Vicky and now Nate. "Fuck." He looked up and pressed his lips together when Nate returned. "I'm sorry," he whispered, then cleared his throat to try and get his voice back. "It's like a seizure. You have to wait five seconds, you won't want to but you have to." He wished he could just do it himself, lock himself away somewhere, inject himself and wait it out but no, he had to be dependent on someone being there with him, like a cruel joke on someone who usually preferred to be alone.
Nate returned to the room, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat beside Mike as he dug through his bag for the medicine case. “It’s okay,” he said softly, relieved when he found the needle, wanting to be as prepared as the could be. Mike didn’t need to apologize, it wasn’t his fault, and Nate wished he could do something to actually stop it from happening. “You’ll be okay,” he said, looking up at him once there was nothing else he could do but wait for it to hit. “Five seconds once it starts.” Compared to some of the spells he’d done, this was easy. The difference was no one’s life had been depending on them like this. As focused as he was, his composure forced, he knew he’d crash in his own way afterwards. But that was manageable; nothing like this.
The difference between Vicky and Nate when it came to this was that Vicky had known about it for a long time and they'd talked about before it happened. He'd even shown her the needle, explained how it went down. It hadn't been a frantic and rushed explanation like now. Nate looked so calm though, like he knew exactly what to do and Mike just had to cling to the hope that he didn't freeze up when he most needed him. He wanted to say he was sorry again but then the pain came, slamming into him without any more warning than it had already given him. His body went rigid, every muscle tight and cramping. He wanted the shot now now now and as always those seconds felt like hours, maybe worse because he couldn't tell what Nate was doing or where he even was during the attack.
Nate knew what a seizure was, but he wasn’t really sure what that meant for Mike until it happened. And then he understood why it was so hard to wait five seconds. He looked like he was in horrible pain and Nate cursed quietly before he started counting, softly but out loud. It kept his focused as he readied the shot, each second lasting longer than it should before he plunged the needle into Mike’s arm. It was surprising how easily it moved through the skin, something he probably should have accounted for, and he hoped he was doing it right when he pressed down on the plunger. Once the drug had been injected, he pulled the needle carefully out, his hand still on Mike’s arm as he waited nervously for him to calm. Only afterwards did he notice his hands were shaking, the waiting almost worse than the action.
It only took a few seconds before the injection kicked in and Mike's body relaxed again. Of course he still felt like shit, like he'd worked out too hard, strained every muscle too much. He sucked in air as he started loosening up, then brought his hand up to wipe away the tears that inevitably always came with every attack. At least this time he hadn't ended up on the floor, surprisingly enough. He blinked and looked sideways at Nate, only briefly before averting his eyes. "Okay," he whispered and this was worse than when Vicky had been there. Nate wasn't a close friend, he was just the hot bartender who knew how to fix curses somehow. Mike hadn't even gotten to know how exactly, it wasn't fair. His mind felt fuzzy and he wrapped his skinny arms around his chest and blew out air through his lips. He felt stupid now, overwhelmingly stupid and guilty for going out. It wasn't supposed to hit until after tomorrow but it had still been risky and he was fucking stupid. "Sorry," he mumbled again, sniffling as he pushed himself up into a more seated position with a kick at the floor.
There was a moment of relief when Mike spoke and Nate began to relax, and then he was hit with sudden rush of guilt that almost left him dizzy it came on so fast. It left him stunned, not even sure what he was feeling guilty for, just that he had done something wrong and that he should be ashamed of himself. Nate frowned and ran a hand over his hair as he shook his head. “It’s okay, really,” he said. “Things happen.” And when they did, he needed to fix them. He hadn’t been able to fix them for Jack, not in time, but he could fix them for Mike. He had to. It didn’t feel right not to after what he’d done… whatever that was. “Do you trust me?” he asked Mike, hoping he understood. Yes, he’d trusted him to give him the shot, but he hadn’t had a choice then. He had a choice now.
It was a sincere question but Mike might have laughed anyway if he was feeling like himself because how could he not trust Nate? He wasn't feeling like himself though, he just felt bone tired and miserable so he couldn't bring up the usual cynical charade. "I trust you," he said quietly. He had no reason not to trust Nate who'd been there for him not just now but also when he lost it on Halloween. If he had bad intentions, he sure as hell was doing a bad job of acting on them.
The exhaustion was weird and totally unexplainable. It made Nate consider taking rest of the night off on account of being sick. Or something. Whatever this was that made him feel like he should lay down and nap. It was a good thing Mike said yes because Nate didn’t have the energy to do anything the normal way at this point. He looked up at the shelves behind his desk, held out his hand, and ZIP! A canister flew from the shelf into his hand. He repeated the action on two coffee mugs and a bottle of water, setting the four objects down in front of him. “I’m gonna make us something that should help,” he said with a sigh, aware that he needed it too, even if he didn’t know why.
Mike sort of freaked out except he couldn't really call it that. On the inside, sure, almost. There was a lot of 'what the fuck' going on inside his head but it felt muffled and insignificant. Outwardly he barely reacted, just watched Nate do weird shit with a look of resignation. "I just- Can I just-" he mumbled and moved to half-lie down with his head on the arm of the couch, his feet still on the floor. He moved slowly, like he had aged sixty years in a minute but that wasn't unusual. He'd feel like shit for a couple of days and then he'd go back to the routine of enjoying life while he still had it. "So you just... do that," he mumbled, not quite a question, more a baffled observation.
It took more energy than it should have for Nate to open the canister and put two scoops of a green powder into both cups. He almost considered putting his head down after that, but then he wouldn’t get the benefit of what he was trying to make in the first place. “Yeah,” he muttered as he poured water into each cup. “Kinda goes with the curse breaking.” He stirred the cups one at a time, feeling so sluggish and depressed that he knew something else was going on, but in this state of mind he couldn’t figure out what it was. With them both mixed up, he put his hands over the mugs and closed his eyes. It felt so good he considered a nap, but then called upon the elements, invoking the powers that activated the mixture. Finally, he handed one mug over to Mike. “You should drink this,” he said, then shook his head. “Fuck, I feel horrible.”
Mike was on the verge of falling asleep but he forced himself to sit up enough to take the cup, sniffing at it before drinking. It was... cold tea? He didn't really care, it was good to drink something and he really didn't care that it didn't taste awesome. It didn't taste horrible either and it didn't make him want to throw up so that was plenty right there. "Do you have a tissue?" he mumbled between sips because his damn nose was leaking and sniffling wasn't really holding it back.
It felt like pure laziness that had Nate flying things to him, but his mind was still active while his body was not. The box of tissues was so poorly aimed it almost hit in him the head, and Nate took one for himself before handing it over to Mike. “I’m sorry I’m… not more with it,” he said, then took a sip of his own mug. Not his favorite stuff, but it usually kicked his body back into shape, no matter what condition it was in. He’d made it for hangovers, but it worked on the flu, a common cold, migraines, and just about any ailment that wasn’t magical. If it didn’t work on this, he might as well lay down on the floor and take a nap.
Mike blew his nose, then kept the crumpled tissue in his hand as he drank more of whatever the hell Nate had given him. He was starting to think Nate should have asked if he could trust Mike, not the other way around. Unless he was hallucinating, this was a big deal. "You're telekinetic," he mumbled. "You're like a goddamn X-man." It was cool and it didn't seem like Nate wasn't 'with it', not when he was literally making things fly into his hand - or roughly toward his hand at least. The more Mike drank, the better the drink tasted and he didn't feel as beat up as he had mere seconds ago. "What's wrong with you?" he asked with some concern because Nate did look pretty miserable now that Mike was feeling a touch clearer.
“Not quite,” Nate said with a little smile. It was a reasonable assumption, considering his use of magic at the moment. Moving things through the air had always been easy for him, easier than anything else in fact. But he didn’t have the power that someone with true telekinesis would have. “I’m a witch. And I kinda feel like shit and I don’t know why.” But the drink was helping, just as he’d hoped it would. He’d just feel better if he knew what had come over him. He impulsively felt for the clay disc, making sure it was still there and intact, relieved to find that was the case. The last thing he needed was to lose it days before the new moon.
Mike was reaching a point in his life where being told someone was a witch no longer made him roll his eyes. Nate was a witch. Of course he was. A small part of Mike wanted not to believe it but it was getting increasingly harder not to accept just about anything these days. "Well you did a really good job," he said softly. "So you don't need to feel like shit." He took another sip and smiled faintly. "And this is helping... I'm going to have to get the recipe, I'm usually out cold like minutes after this happens." He still felt tired, there was no denying it, but not the kind of tired that felt like he might just slip into a coma as soon as he closed his eyes so that was something.
Nate gave a tired little laugh and shook his head. “No, I mean, like… I’m just exhausted for some reason. But thanks. I’m glad I didn’t screw it up.” He figured things would have been much, much worse if he’d somehow failed in giving Mike his shot. “It’s not quite the same if you make it, but if you know you’re going to need it, I can activate it for you and then it’s good for a few days.” It’d probably be better hot, but it was easier to keep cold or room temperature. In this case, Nate had just gone with whatever was easiest. It felt like an emergency, especially how he was feeling as well.
Mike related to the exhausted part and he didn't even consider that it might be weird that Nate felt like that too. "You need to activate-" he murmured after swallowing another sip of his weird brew. "Because it's magic." He let out a little huff of a laugh because it was such a ridiculous thing to say out loud and actually mean but there they were. Nate was a witch... Whatever the fuck that really meant. He sure as hell wasn't just one of those wiccan idiots talking nonsense, Mike had seen it now. "Thanks," he said more genuinely. "Is it weird if I stay in here for an hour or so?"
“Yeah,” Nate said with a little laugh as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. “I know it’s weird, just… keep it to yourself, okay?” There were some witches in town that were well known, like his sister, but Nate didn’t make it public knowledge that he was as well. Anyone that knew anything about witches knew there was a chance, but most people didn’t assume. As tired as he was, he needed to get back to the bar and the drink should continue to help, so he nodded. “Not a problem. Yell if you need anything, okay?” He didn’t really want to leave Mike alone, but he seemed okay now, so hopefully he’d be okay.
"I'll keep your secret," Mike murmured. "I owe you one. Or ten... I lost count." He grimaced, glancing up at Nate again. "Sorry you had to deal with this. It wasn't supposed to happen for another day or a week or something. I wouldn't have gone out if I'd known." He'd have to tell his mom about it and he wasn't sure at this point what it meant. Was it accelerating? That was not a good thing but maybe he'd miscounted, he was under a lot of stress lately so it wasn't completely unlikely.
“It happens on a schedule?” Nate asked with a little frown. He wasn’t a doctor, but… that seemed weird. The human body didn’t usually work like that. But then Nate didn’t know a lot about Mike’s condition, so he probably shouldn’t pry. It was just a good thing that he had something that could bring it back under control so quickly. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like without the shot. “It’s really okay,” he said, standing at the door. “I’m glad I could help.” It was one of those times that he was really glad that he seemed to remain calm in times of crisis.
It'd be nice if it was a regular schedule but Nate was right, that wasn't how bodies worked. "Every five to six weeks," Mike replied, stiffly moving to put the half empty cup on the table. "I won't snoop," he promised. "I might drool on your couch though, I'll try not to." He gave him a faint smile to let him know he was joking, he'd probably use his arm as a pillow so whatever drool there might be would go home with him. Hopefully. "I'll pay for the vodka," he added as an afterthought and it spoke volumes for Nate's brew how cognizant he was feeling that he even thought of the vodka still sitting at the bar - unless someone had swiped it already.
That seemed like a lot to Nate, but again, he didn’t know enough about Mike’s condition and what might be considered normal. Maybe someday Mike would be comfortable enough with him to tell him, but up till now they hadn’t been that close of friends. “Oh god, don’t drool,” Nate smirked. “I’ll never get rid of the stain.” He was teasing, of course, especially since worse things had happened on that couch. Things Mike didn’t need to know about. “I’m not worried about the vodka,” he said with a little laugh. “But don’t sneak out. Say bye before you leave, okay?” He didn’t expect things to get busy, but he’d feel better seeing Mike when he was feeling better himself.
Mike promised he wouldn't sneak out and once Nate had left he toed off his shoes and curled up on the couch. He didn't feel nearly as horrible as he usually did, like just being in Dragonfly was lulling him into comfort again. Normally he would have called Terry by now, begged him to drive him home so he could hide from the world and be miserable in his own room. Maybe it had something to do with the magic brew, he thought. A bar wasn't a place he'd normally feel this comfortable in.
He slept for longer than he meant to. Three hours ticked by like mere seconds and he was a little groggy when he woke up. Nate had a blanket on the couch because of he course he did and Mike had ended up wrapped up tightly in it, too content to sleep there to bother waking up. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was and why. His bag was there and his medicine case and he would have felt a lot worse about it if... If Nate hadn't somehow made him feel better. He sniffed at the rest of the weird drink he'd made him, then drank it down and got up, putting his shoes on and finding a mint in his backpack to combat whatever sleep-breath he might still have. He was a little woozy when he made his way back to the bar, fortunately not too busy though he couldn't say he'd ever seen Dragonfly dead, even on a weeknight. He gave Nate a faint smile as he grabbed a free seat by the bar. "Don't suppose you hid my drink away somewhere," he joked before waving his hand dismissively. "I'll have the same, vodka sour."
There was no good explanation for it, but Nate immediately felt better by the time he got back to the bar. The brew he’d made for him and Mike worked, but not like that. Not that fast, even on a delay. He wasn’t complaining though, glad that his energy had returned and that he could manage the bar as he expected. It was a few hours later when he finally saw Mike, looking far better than he had when he left him. He gave him a smile and moved down to his end of the bar, glad that things were light enough tonight that he had plenty of time to talk. “Sorry, threw it out,” he said. “But you can have another on the house. How’re you feeling?”
"Better," Mike replied and then after a slight delay added, "Thanks." He still felt embarrassed but Nate was being really cool about it and not freaking out at him so that counted for a lot. "And no I'm paying, you already did way more than a lot." He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced around to see who else was in there. After a second he realized he was looking for Jack and that hollow feeling came back with vengeance. He turned his attention to Nate, trying to shake that feeling. "Are you okay?"
Nate didn’t really feel like Mike owed him, but he decided not to push it. If it were him, he’d want to do something for the person who helped him too. “Yeah, a lot better. I don’t know what that was. It was weird, but it passed,” Nate said as he made Mike a fresh drink. If it happened again, then he’d be concerned, but things happened around there all the time and so long as it didn’t repeat itself then it shouldn’t be an issue. “You okay to drink now?” he asked, raising a brow as he slid him the glass.
"Oh yeah," Mike replied. He understood why Nate would ask but all he could do right now was drink. He liked to pass the time with other fun things of course but most of them took too much energy. On that note he was still surprised by just how much energy he had right now. "I'm just gonna have to hire you as my nurse or something," he mumbled. "I've never been this okay this fast before. You could sell that stuff and become ultra rich, you know?"
“I know,” Nate said. “My sister actually does something similar. Not that you should go to her. She’s not a nurse and neither am I.” Healing magic was just that— magic. There were limitations. They couldn’t cure cancer, not without nature forcing the balance some place else, which was difficult to explain. Something like curing a hangover, or healing from an attack like Mike’s, was small enough that they wouldn’t see the other side of it, but not everyone understood that. “It’s just not the business I wanted to go into. I use it in my own way. But when someone I know needs it, sure.”
Mike supposed Nate had a nice enough setup in life that he didn't really need to sell this stuff, it just seemed like such a profitable thing it was a little weird not using it. He did have a successful and amazing bar though, even if it was in Point Pleasant. "I'm kinda getting whiplash lately," he said after drinking a little, smiling faintly at Nate. "Finding out the world is a lot weirder than I already knew it was." They couldn't talk about it in depth at the bar so he wasn't getting into details, even if he still felt like he had a million questions.
Nate nodded, understanding how that might feel, even if he’d never really experienced it himself. He’d known it his whole life, so it wasn’t so much weird as split. There were people that knew and people that didn’t, and those that didn’t were usually kept in the dark for their own protection and sanity. Not everyone took well to knowing about the weird. “It is, but… it’s still the same. Like, the people are the same. The town is the same. You’re just seeing a different side to it all,” he said. “And it’s not everyone and everything, though I do think there’s something about Point Pleasant that draws it in. Like, there’s more here than other places in the world.”
"How do you know that?" Mike asked. "Maybe they just hide it as well as the people here do." Or maybe Nate had traveled a lot and could sense magic in the air or something. Mike had no idea what logic applied here - if any. It wasn't like you could read about this stuff in the paper in Point Pleasant, Mike was pretty sure most of the people in town were as clueless as he was - or had been.
“I can sense people like me,” Nate said, leaning against the bar. “I never met as many in college as I have here. But I also think we have roots here. My kind, at least.” He couldn’t speak for the others, but he’d never heard of anything else running in families the way witchcraft did. Point Pleasant did have a history though, one that spoke of a lot darker things than just witches, and he didn’t know why. It was a small town and not all small towns had the kind of problems that they did. “But you’re right. I can’t see it all, and it’s not something people like to talk about, so it’s hard to really know. I just know that once you’re a part of it, you start to hear and see more because you know to do so.”
"Baader-Meinhof syndrome," Mike said with a little groan. "Yeah that makes sense. Like when you learn a new word and suddenly it's everywhere. Frequency illusion." Why did he remember that? The brain was a weird thing that sometimes seemed like an independent creature with its own ideas and emotions divorced from the self. "So who else is like you? You've got the inside scoop, like a gaydar but-" he paused and looked around, lowing his voice. "Magic-dar." Unless they all had some kind of markings on them that Mike would start noticing too once he knew about them.
“Yes, exactly,” Nate agreed. He wasn’t familiar with the syndrome, but he knew the concept and Mike was spot on. Like when you bought a new car and then started seeing that car everywhere. “I trust you, I do, but I really can’t tell you,” he said with an apologetic smile. “It would be like outing them. You’ve gotta remember, my kind doesn’t have a good history here. We’ve been hung before just for existing.” Times might have changed, but not everyone was ready for witches to exist. It opened too big a can of worms.
Mike rolled his eyes but he understood and it was more playful than anything. Then he grinned and cocked a brow at Nate. "You mean hanged?" he teased. "I mean, I don't know how well endowed you are, maybe you are all... really hung." Was it a crass joke considering the history of witches? Possibly. Or maybe because he shouldn't be joking about Nate's dick, it was just too easy to go there. "I won't tell a soul," he added quickly but couldn't resist keeping things light. "About either."
“Yes, hanged,” Nate laughed, surprised but amused. “Being really hung wouldn’t exactly be a downside.” Unless it was too much. He supposed there was such a thing, but that was taking the conversation off the rails. “Thanks, though. I don’t need those kind of rumors going around. Plus, you start something like that and people are going to wonder how you know,” he teased. Nate didn’t normally flirt back with Mike, but he’d had a night, and it was good to see him in better spirits.
Mike was pretty sure they were talking about magic now but the suggestive way Nate said it definitely made it sound like they were talking about the size of his dick so he let out a little laugh, shrugging one shoulder casually. "Let them wonder," he murmured, now definitely meaning the size of Nate's dick. There were worse rumors about him out there than him fucking a hot bar-owner, that was sure, and it was good to just joke around after what had happened. He really didn't often feel this at ease after an attack and at this point he really felt like he owed Nate after the way he kept helping out.
Nate laughed with Mike, giving a little shake of his head. He really didn’t care what people said about him, so long as it wasn’t going to get him into too much trouble. “People need something to talk about,” he said with a little wink as someone at the end of the bar flagged him down. That was the downside to socializing at work; he sometimes had to step away. Fortunately, he knew Mike was feeling better, so it was easier for him to excuse himself. Things could have been so much worse, he thought. It was worth it to admit what he was if he could help out a friend. What good were his abilities if he couldn’t help people from time to time?