"The Shining," John repeated, like he was testing the word out, turning it over in his head. The word alone didn't describe a whole lot, except for how it kind of did at the same time. But he gathered it was psychic stuff, considering. Not so much a magic as an inherent thing.
Not that magic wasn't occasionally inherent too, with some people. John had been doing little acts of accidental magic since before he knew how to stop himself. Dan wasn't the only one with ghosts. John's hadn't been in a hotel, though.
He took his hands back, so that he could pick up his fork and see just how impressive Dan's cooking really was. "Some people have magic," he explained, considering. "And some people simply are. Any sorcerer, magician -- whatever fuck dumb name you pick for it -- worth his salt is a little bit of both." And John didn't care to brag, not exactly, because he tended to call what he did dabbling in most (sarcastic) cases. But there really wasn't anyone much better.