Going Down: Mickey and James
"I like sports," Mickey shared, though there was no malice in his words, no sense that he felt this made him better than James. "Especially football. National sport where I grew up."
Mickey nodded. "I knew that, actually. Weatherby's a pretty big name. Never ridden a horse myself, though." As Mickey talked, he was pulling off one of his heavy mittens.
Now that his hand was free, he could easily show James a flash of fire. It was brief and bright, and those who'd seen it might've mistaken it for a brief glare of the sun. "I'm from the desert," Mickey said, smirking. "I'm an ifrit. I have the fire of the sun, the hot sand of the Sahara and the wind of the sirroco." And he'd almost mastered all three of them! Sort of.