[Now, if he’s considered different, it’s just because he’s an honorary wizard — which is probably the best way to be different than most people (but not even all people, now!), anyway.]
I have a lot of questions about how this all works now. I— [Politeness needling itself back in.] I’ll try not to take up too much time talking about it over dinner.
[Spoiler: he does not. He is too curious of a young man not to help but let them spill forth, trying not to sound too excitable. When was the last time he felt excited about something, anyway? The funny thing is, these aren’t the kind of questions he asks himself during this shared dinner; they escape his mind completely, and it’s nice for a change.
Time passes. The school year marches onward. Henry finds that friendship is not as strange and awkwardly-forming as he thought it might be with Alec; instead, it’s almost instantaneous how things have changed, how he greets him with a smile when they pass each other in the hall, how he looks for him during lunch period, and how he always finds him after school’s let out. They talk about everything and nothing. And on the weekends, Henry finishes all of his homework assignments early, so there’s no fuss about him visiting Alec and his dad, and they can talk about magic and psychic powers, continuing to learn more about his own — hone them into something a little more impressive than just moving a few objects with his mind.
One day, Henry invites Alec over instead, for no practical reason other than that’s what best friends do, right? (At some point, Alec had been promoted to best friend, but that was an easy choice when he boy was his only friend, too.) The neighborhood is full of well-kept lawns and houses, and his home is freshly-painted and two-story.
Whenever Alec arrives and decides to either knock or ring the doorbell, the door swings open, and he’s greeted by…
Alice Creel, Henry’s older sister by three years, bright-faced, curious, and with perfectly pleated pigtails. She leans in, wide-eyed, gripping at the doorknob.]
Hello! You’re Henry’s friend, right?
[“Friend” is stressed like it’s so rare a thing, one needs to verify that it can even exist.]
no subject
[Now, if he’s considered different, it’s just because he’s an honorary wizard — which is probably the best way to be different than most people (but not even all people, now!), anyway.]
I have a lot of questions about how this all works now. I— [Politeness needling itself back in.] I’ll try not to take up too much time talking about it over dinner.
[Spoiler: he does not. He is too curious of a young man not to help but let them spill forth, trying not to sound too excitable. When was the last time he felt excited about something, anyway? The funny thing is, these aren’t the kind of questions he asks himself during this shared dinner; they escape his mind completely, and it’s nice for a change.
Time passes. The school year marches onward. Henry finds that friendship is not as strange and awkwardly-forming as he thought it might be with Alec; instead, it’s almost instantaneous how things have changed, how he greets him with a smile when they pass each other in the hall, how he looks for him during lunch period, and how he always finds him after school’s let out. They talk about everything and nothing. And on the weekends, Henry finishes all of his homework assignments early, so there’s no fuss about him visiting Alec and his dad, and they can talk about magic and psychic powers, continuing to learn more about his own — hone them into something a little more impressive than just moving a few objects with his mind.
One day, Henry invites Alec over instead, for no practical reason other than that’s what best friends do, right? (At some point, Alec had been promoted to best friend, but that was an easy choice when he boy was his only friend, too.) The neighborhood is full of well-kept lawns and houses, and his home is freshly-painted and two-story.
Whenever Alec arrives and decides to either knock or ring the doorbell, the door swings open, and he’s greeted by…
Alice Creel, Henry’s older sister by three years, bright-faced, curious, and with perfectly pleated pigtails. She leans in, wide-eyed, gripping at the doorknob.]
Hello! You’re Henry’s friend, right?
[“Friend” is stressed like it’s so rare a thing, one needs to verify that it can even exist.]