New York: Allie's War, Early Years

I found myself focusing on the gun harness he still wore around his shoulders, visible now that his jacket was gone.

"I need to talk to you," he repeated simply.

He didn't pat the couch next to him, but the implication was clear. He wanted me to join him.

I didn't hesitate very long.

Walking around the back of the couch, I sat on the other end...thankfully, I admit, because my back was still killing me, and that couch was more comfortable than anything I'd had in any one of my apartments. Wincing as I shifted to get even more comfortable, I folded one leg so I could face him easier, and leaned back into the cushion with a sigh of my own, still clutching my water glass.

Then I waited.

I watched him look down at the gun harness, as if remembering it was there. After a slight hesitation, he undid the velcro straps and took it off almost like a vest, hanging it on the back of the same chair along with his jacket.

For a moment we only sat there, staring at the fire.

I thought his silence was some kind of power play at first, but when he frowned, his eyes focused inward still, I wondered if maybe he was reading my mind.

"A little," he said, turning.

"A little?" I said. "As in, you're reading my mind a little?"

"Yes."

I tried to smile, but it was more nerves than anything, and I wasn't sure how to really respond to what he'd said. He didn't smile back. His eyes remained serious, studying the flames behind the fake log and the metal grate.

"Look," I said. "Don't think I'm not grateful about tonight, because I am. I'm really grateful, so I'm sorry I didn't say that before." I paused, waiting for him to look over.

He didn't. Taking another breath, I plunged on.

"...But I've never really talked to a seer before," I said. "And, no offense, but you really don't seem all that great with people. So I'll just come out and say it. If you really do want to talk to me, I need words. Just ask me, whatever it is. I'm going to tell you whatever you want to know. I don't have any reason not to...and I owe you, like I said."

I paused, then remembered something else.

"...A name would help, too."

His frown deepened. I thought he was going to lapse back into silence again, but after giving me a faintly puzzled look, he shrugged, making another of those vague gestures with his hand. He was wearing a ring, I noticed, on his smallest finger. It glinted silver, but didn't seem to have any markings.