callmezatara

[callmezatara]

mistressofmagic​:

[TEXT] i just saw a kid throw a piece of candy at a skeleton and told it to ‘begone,’ this generation is terrifying

@callmezatara

(✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): wait a kid did that and not you? (✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): :/ zach you gotta put yourself out there (✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): fight a skeleton (✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): carve a pumpkin (✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): but this generation is truly… something (✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): they fear nothing?? not god, not magic (✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): and sure as hell not a plastic skeleton (✉️ ➡️ tihspid ): would they take you out or would you win? hm?

[ ✉ ⟹ Not A Zatara ] : I’m not about to do that without attempting to push it into a dimension far far away from our current reality [ ✉ ⟹ Not A Zatara ] : I’ve already dirtied my gloves enough tonight thank you [ ✉ ⟹ Not A Zatara ] : Seriously... You’d think they’d fear something outside of their screen being cracked [ ✉ ⟹ Not A Zatara ] : Now that’s a rude question, I’d obviously win [ ✉ ⟹ Not A Zatara ] : I have pretty good control over my own pyrotechnics, and all the giggling squash are really getting on my nerves [ ✉ ⟹ Not A Zatara ] : Zachy is not happy [ DELETED ]

[callmezatara]

I Remember Halloween //  “Are you going to let a pumpkin talk to you like that?” @ruleroflimbo​

          A heavy sigh punctuated the cool air, brimming with mystical threads that Zach felt pricking at the goosebumps under his coat. Talking pumpkins... With nothing nice to say. He’d roamed around a bit the minute he’d felt something in the wind, not sure if he could exactly place it but knowing he should, finding his path littered with any manner of cliché Halloweentown paraphernalia a single person could think of... Or multiple persons; his sightline was littered with lawn décor terrorizing the public.

          He’d come face to face with his cousin’s apprentice at some point in his wanderings, less than enthused that he had, but decided two magically knowledgeable heads were better than one... Even if his was better. And a lot prettier. His focus zeroed in on the orange orb in front of him, candle-lit and jagged smile laughing it’s imaginary ass off at the wisecrack it had thrown the magician’s way. Digging a gloved hand out of his coat pocket he mumbled a single, backwards word and the wooden shape of a baseball bat took form. Not any more moments passed before he swung it down on top of the impish gourd, and then again, another time to knock the thick walls down onto the sidewalk.

          Hefting the weapon over his shoulder, pumpkin guts coating the sides, he swiped his free hand through his tousled hair. “Well, the direct answer is no. If the context clues weren’t there. I don’t take kindly to vegetation shitting on me.”

[callmezatara]

anxietylanterncruz​:

(✉️ ➡️ unknown ): oh yikes (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): i mean not yikes i mean sorry - (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): i don’t mean /sorry/- (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): i’d argue that you were missing out  (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): space too. i guess intelligent life is really good at being weird as hell (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): i am calling you sus! you’re sus! sus! 

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Uh huh. Sure. [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Double sure.  [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Space?? [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Wait, are you an alien? I swear to god if this is Superman or something... [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Oh, I probably fucked my chance of getting into the Justice Le [ DELETED ] [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Superman doesn’t say sus [ DELETED ] [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : I am not!! I’m totally not. 

[callmezatara]

stxrsfires​:

48. — lucky @callmezatara​

“I do not know if you are just entirely too lucky or are utterly foolish,” Kori deadpanned as she held the man by the collar of his jacket, shaking him a bit. “Give him the wallet.” She sighed, tapping her foot as the man hurriedly handed Zach the wallet he had managed to snag off of him. “Now go home.” She sat the man back on his feet and he took off, Kori then turning her attention to Zach. She recognized him from the Tower, from the time he had once spent around other Titans. “I’m going to go with foolish, rather than lucky. Do you get your wallet stolen often, Zach?” She quipped with an easy grin starting to pull at her features, lucky she had even managed to notice the fact that he had gotten pickpocketed in the first place. He was lucky, but she wasn’t going to give him any bigger of a head than he needed. 

/

        Zach’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Before him, bombshell babe, and the guy who managed to pickpocket the pickpocket. He’d noticed the slip far too late, a little more annoyed than anything, the words on his lips to stop the fool in his tracks just before the familiar fiery face appeared in front of him, yanking the perp into the air like he was a feather. Nmad...

          “... I totally had that, you know,” he huffed, pushing a hand through his purposefully unruly hair, pulling at his waistcoat to straighten out the slightest wrinkles. The magic potential stored escaped in that one breath, the pressure on his chest of unspoken words gone to the wind. “And, in fact, I’m very lucky. I come from Vegas,” he professed, hands outstretched to highlight his words with the usual Zatara dramatic flare. “Double and, no I don’t. Crafty bastard nearly had me before I could zap his ass into a pigeon.” An, unfortunately, empty threat, both in his ability and the fact the man had escaped with his biological structure still intact. “... Don’t tell me you’re about to gloat to my face about the magician getting his wallet stolen. I do not need that.” 

[callmezatara]

vengeancedemons​:

audience // @callmezatara​

Robbie had never worked well with an audience. At Canelo’s, the other guys knew to let him keep to himself, knew that if they left him alone long enough he’d have whatever engine he was working on running like new long before any of the rest of them could have done it. And as the Rider… Well. Any audience he managed to gain there tended to be ash by the time the show was over.

So it always fascinated him, just a little, when other people did their best work with a crowd of eyes on them. Typically, Robbie wouldn’t have been at an event like this. He wasn’t much of a magic guy, after all, in spite of Zatanna’s insistence that the Rider was somehow tied to the mystical shit she was into. He certainly didn’t want to go to a magic show run by someone with her name. (Her cousin, wasn’t it?) But the guy he was tracking was slippery, and this show was the first time he’d been in public in months. He’d go to ground again as soon as this was over, Robbie knew it. So he sat in the audience, a few tables away, and watched.

The show was over now, and the mark was enjoying a drink. Robbie’s nose twitched, impatience flooding his veins. Part of him wanted to take the man out here and now, but… He’d never worked well with an audience. He was on edge enough to feel the person approaching, glanced back briefly to confirm that it was the man who’d been on stage until a few minutes ago. “Don’t want an autograph,” he said gruffly. “Move on to the next table.”

/

          The nights were almost blurring together, the faces changed but the routine stayed the same. His perfectionism had his mind occupied on every little motion that was off by centimeters, save for the performer in him that wanted to see smiling faces, eyes filled with wonder and whimsy... Childish. Wishing for something like that from anyone watching him was just childish. He may have let a few too many frowns slip into his routine, hoping they weren’t caught by the hot stage lights before his bleached-white smile was back. Dazzling, effervescent, enough.

          Maybe it was burnout (magical or otherwise), maybe it was just fatigue, maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t stop overthinking absolutely everything. Maybe it was the one person in the crowd that looked like he was having a rotten-ass time at a magic show. Sure, he dealt with hecklers and the bored, over-critical patron, but when he said all eyes on him and all eyes weren’t on him? Criminal. Utterly. 

          So, naturally, confrontation was in order. Zach loved his audience, why not show a little appreciation?

          “Ooh, feisty, alright,” He chuckled, the drink in his gloved hands swirling as he stepped closer. “Noticed you were lookin’ pretty down. What, the date go sour? No call no show? Or is that guy over there one of your mortal enemies or something?”

[callmezatara]

anxietylanterncruz​:

(✉️ ➡️ unknown ): i only know one magician and she hates my partner  (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): … do you hate simon too? because if you do, then you’re really not that great :/ (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): is there anyone normal in this city?  (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): too many question marks magician  (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): looks sus to me

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : She? [ DELETED ] [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Mother fuck [ DELETED ] [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : My cuz, no doubt. [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : I don’t know any Simons, so I’m better than great, probably. [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : In New York? No fucking way. Any big city is full of weridos. [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Did you seriously call me sus?? Oh my god...

[callmezatara]

twentyninetynines​:

He wasn’t exactly new to this. The way he’d met Tony and Zee had been another thing, a scenario utterly unlike this one because he’d met them as people first and ancestors second, but he did have experience meeting people distantly related to him with the knowledge that there was shared DNA there. He’d done it with Tiberius, saved his life and stood frozen on the spot, watching the way he moved and breathed and existed in a way that was far too much like Miguel’s father, like Tiberius’s son. You’d think that would make it easier, that it might soften whatever this was into something simple.

It didn’t.

Maybe it was because he didn’t hate the side of his family that Zachary Zatara came from. Maybe it was because he wasn’t meeting him in a life-or-death kind of situation, with a mask pulled taut over his face. There were a lot of maybes here, a lot of variables that not even Miguel’s mind could manage to account for. And it wasn’t like there was any kind of how-to guide for this shit. Miguel doubted he was the first person to do it, but… He probably wasn’t in wide company.

That was probably why it took him a moment to realize that the man — Zachary Zatara, his grandmother’s cousin — was speaking to him directly and not just speaking aloud. He let out a short, dry laugh. “You say that, but… You’re here at my table, talking to me. So. Personal time. Right?” He wished he was better at first impressions. He wished he’d ever been able to convince anyone to like him the first time they met. 

He laughed again, a short ha that was cut off at the end for no real reason at all. It hung in the air for a moment, clunky and awkward, and he wondered if Zach would tell Zee about the weird guy who hung back at the end of one of his shows, wondered if she’d be able to put two and two together when she heard the story, wondered if she’d call him out on it. “I mean, how would I know what it’s called? You’re the magician, right? I’m just… uh. Some guy.” He paused for a moment, silent for as long as he could hold it before more words tumbled out. “I mean, I’m a scientist. So this is, like, the opposite of what I do. Right? Science and magic don’t… Well. They mix better than people think, but not — Not in me. As far as I know.” 

Yeah. He was blowing this.

          The magician paused, sucking his lips between his teeth as he... Really didn’t have a reply to that. “... Touché,” he settled on, crossing his arms over the messy lapels of his coat. With a sigh, he continued, “What can I say? I adore my public.” The slow curl of a grin daring to form on his features while he stood there. He could just leave, he knew he should, but maybe he would ask for an autograph, hire him for a private show. There really was no business like show business, potential patrons could come out of anywhere, even weirdos that stayed in their seats past bar time when there were plenty more shows to see in town. 

          This.... This suddenly felt a little more special than the usual fodder.

          A shrug had him leaning one hand on the table, getting just a bit closer into the stranger’s personal space. “Fair enough. I guess Joe-Schmo wouldn’t know too much about cups and balls or the french drop, let alone what they tell you in the Magic Circle.” Of which he’d been denied application. Thrice. As the awkward silence stretched, he half-expected the other to just... Leave. To leave him alone with his after show thoughts and drinks, picking apart every little detail so he could do it just as perfect again whenever he got the gigs, whenever anyone needed parlor tricks to keep them entertained, whenever they wanted Zatara, but the prime cut was too busy. 

          He shook his head, laughing under his breath as the conversation continued. “Buddy, relax. You’re looking at me like I’m about to sprout horns and a tail,” and, in another move to burst his own bubble and contradict his previous statements, he muttered some words under his breath, gestured for a chair, and it dragged itself over for him to take a well-deserved seat. “Well, I gotta’ say, you’re smarter than most science-y types I’ve met. Bunch of hard-asses.” Flicking the hair out of his eyes, finally taking off the dusty gloves to flex his stiff hands, he started his post-show cooldown... Minus half of the usual routine. “As far as you know. Magic runs the show, my guy. It is.” Gesturing grandly to the sad, empty stage, his theatrics deflated just as he made eye contact with a space no longer lit for the night. “Depressing... Regardless, I’m not too much of a help. I can prestige my way out of anything, but complex biological magic is currently my worst enemy.”

[callmezatara]

🎧 // for @ruleroflimbo​ Rock You Like A Hurricane - Scorpions

The night is calling, I have to go / The wolf is hungry, he runs the show / He's licking his lips, he's ready to win / On the hunt tonight for love at first sting

          The Night Life around New York was nothing like Vegas. It was crawling with a different type of creature, something weird and unknown. He’d been around the city enough to get a decent grasp of it, but something was still missing: the magic.

          Granted, he wasn’t doing it for tips tonight. He just hoped he could scrounge enough cash to get in, get a few drinks, and find someone willing to spend the night with Houdini’s protégé. The challenge was part of the fun, but a few more ticks in the loss column than the win was grating on him. So he’d brought out his best ice breakers; the cards, the ring, the quarter, even salt, and he was still lonely on a Friday night. There had to be something in the water, something preventing all these individuals from noticing his dashing charm and good looks on top of his skills with prestidigitation. 

          He was starting to think he was getting swindled into buying drinks from everyone he tried to flirt with. Not cool.

          Bought drinks turned into bought shots, whisking away his money as well as his sobriety, With one last whiskey sour gone, he begrudgingly made his way out of the below-street club, out into the chilled night where he wandered the sidewalk, a cigarette loose in his lips. Conscious thought drifted in and out with each step, just until he smacked shoulders with someone that made him turn around, finding himself face to face with... His cousin’s little project. 

          “Christ-” He slurred, a grumble deep in his smoke-filled throat. “The hell’re you doing in my way?” 

[callmezatara]

anxietylanterncruz​:

There was a tickle in her spine as he spoke. That feeling of dread that had started in the pit of her stomach and latched to her bones, working its way up her body in a way that caused her to shudder. “What?” Her voice squeaked, thinking about every questionable episode of BuzzFeed she had watched and Ghost Adventures — and everything. “I thought it was just for show — I thought that was just, you know, the vibe.” She should have known. This was what she got for taking a chance and coming back here with him. He kept talking — and the more he said — the worse that feeling got. 

Up until he said sike. 

Jessica puffed out her cheeks immediately and then huffed. “You—” He was laughing so hard she was sure he was out of breath. She crossed her arms and grumbled a bit more, turning away from him as he explained. “That’s why I trusted you when you said you felt it too! Because I thought you would feel it!” Grabbing a piece of paper off one of the tables, she crumpled it up and then threw it at him. “You are — unbelievable.” After a moment she exhaled and let out a small laugh. Finding the calm she didn’t have a moment before when she was still freaking out. “Sara would have thought that was hilarious — she didn’t put you up to it did she?”

/

          Sure, they weren’t just fantasy, but Zach loved it a little too much seeing a grown person’s fear at the thought of actually summoning a creature of Hell into his less-than-equipped dressing room. He kept laughing as the paper shrapnel was lodged at his face, blocking it a little too easily with an arm, laughing some more before he managed to take a breath. “I really got you good! I can’t summon demons!” Not yet, anyways. They were part of that weird, complex living being thing that he just couldn’t get a damn handle on. Sure there were candles, magic circles, but that usually ended up with him in Hell with them. Less than the ideal situation.

          His internal gloating halted, though, when she said a name. “Sara? No, haven’t heard the name. Not unless-” A rare moment of actual thought came to the younger Zatara, about how he probably shouldn’t finish that sentence if it was someone important enough to name. He shook his head, brushed both hands through the mop on his head and turned back to the mirror. “No, no gags. I’m just being a shit. Seriously, though, I would know if anything weird  was going on. I’m pretty perceptive like that.” Evil magic clones be fuckin’ damned. “Most of the hellish part of the routine is smoke and mirrors. But the actual magic? That’s all real. I do appreciate the vibe check, though. Good to know my aesthetic is still strong.” As much as he knew the rest of the world would see his Hell-bound specialties as a bad thing. Heaven sure as shit wasn’t helping him out, so why not go to the other guys? 

[callmezatara]

anxietylanterncruz​:

(✉️ ➡️ unknown ): yeah we’re going to skip that! thanks!  (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): a bit? are you a performer? (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): everything is really dark right now… i guess fireworks would be nice? you could see them really well! (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): but that doesn’t do much for my battery problem :/ (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): i don’t think that’s an option - i don’t want to put either of them out  (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): and i’m not begging :// (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): are YOU begging?

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : The very best stage magician, at your service ✨ [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Oh please, do. I doubt they’ll notice a few minor watts missing from their supply [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Anyone who keeps track of that can’t be normal then again fuck normal am I right? [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Me???? Hell no! What do I have to beg for? [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Besides a place to live, a stage to perform on, pennies for food, lo [ DELETED ]

[callmezatara]

rictorscales​:

(✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): maybe that’s my magic trick  (✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): glinda was a fucking bitch, man. but i guess if the shoe fits… (✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): hm. i can’t see anyone caring about the looks. the personality needs work. the charisma is nonexistent. the name is just /sad./ i mean, really, you’re gonna capitalize on your /cousin’s/ name? boring! (✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): you have nothing going for you but your ego!

[ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : Funny. You should go into comedy first. [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : Did you ever read the books of Oz?? [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : My God... [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : It’s my fucking name too [ DELETED ] [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : Everything you just said is the opposite of everything I am. You’re 0 for 4 here, bud. [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : Excuse me, 0 for 5. My ego gets me places. It got me here!

[callmezatara]

rictorscales​:

(✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): bitch i could be (✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): no, it’s happening  (✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): you’re gonna need these dildos for your magic show, i’m sure (✉️ ➡️ david copperfield): how else are you gonna convince anyone to pay attention to you

[ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : Could’ve fooled me. [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : Does that mean I’m Glinda? I’ll have to add bubbles to my act. [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : Definitely not the dildos. [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : My charming good looks? My winning personality?? My natural charisma??? The name *Z a t a r a*???? [ ✉ ⟹ Hates Houdini ] : I have plenty going for me already, I don’t need shock value. Send them to Angel in Vegas, he’d love them. 

[callmezatara]

Boku Hetalia! //  “I’m afraid if I tried to eat while looking at your stupid face everything would end up tasting bitter.” @itsbxtgirl​

          The wrapper crunched in his momentarily tightened grip, the uneaten hot dog tantalizingly close to his open mouth. “... Jeez,” he scoffed as he lowered the street-made food, the pout following tired, annoyed eyes. “Way to boost a guy’s confidence, blondie.”

          He recognized the face and the name: Stephanie Brown... But he’d never met the girl officially. He’d heard her name through two parties he could remember but his only knowledge was proxy. What a way to be introduced, on a grubby Gotham street corner in front of a hot dog stand. And she had the audacity to insult his face! “You Gotham types are always so hard to please,” he sighed, resting a hand on one hip, leaning slightly away from the other. Surely she had to know him in some capacity if she was throwing insults his way. Or, maybe, that was just how Gotham was. The thought made him slightly fear the show he’d booked a few hours later in the day. 

          “So, how about you scoot your boot’ elsewhere so you can enjoy your pedestrian meal?”

[callmezatara]

rxdqueens​:

callmezatara​:

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : This was definitely not meant for me. [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : If Wonder Babe was in my room, I would’ve thought I actually got a pass to go to Heaven. [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Didn’t take her to be the easily spooked type, though, wonder where that came from? [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Anyways, where is she staying? Asking for a concerned friend

( 📩 → UNKNOWN ): Clearly not if you’re calling a nice young lady ‘Wonder Babe’. Leave her alone. ( 📩 → UNKNOWN ): Get a job. Do something productive in society. [ …. ] ( 📩 → UNKNOWN ): Why would I tell you that? That’s a no go. ( 📩 → UNKNOWN ): I’ll blast the most annoying song I can think of in your head as extra precaution even. 

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : What’s wrong with the name? She’s a Wonder. She’s a Babe.  [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : I have a job, thanks. Tough ass crowd

[ . . . ]

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Because I’m a concerned former teammate who wants to visit, is that so bad? [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : In my head? What do you mean in my- [ DELETED ] [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : You don’t even know who I am! Which is a crying shame, honestly. 

[callmezatara]

Boku Hetalia! //   “Does anyone else feel that… weirdness in here?” @anxietylanterncruz​​

         Zach chuckled in pure amusement, closing the heavy bound book with a far too satisfying (and slightly dusty) thud. “That means it’s working,” he grinned, though the small dressing room he’d invited the other to hang out in felt just as normal as the seconds he’d walked in. The lipstick pentacle with haphazard runes scattered between it’s straight and curved lines sat pretty on the surface of the tall mirror, more for aesthetic effect than the true nature of the drawing he would make any other day (if he even had the time. Practicing witchcraft? He’d leave that to the freaks).

          “My demon summoning ritual, that is,” he replied cooly, still playing with his momentary joke. “It’s made to offer mortal souls to Zogzogoth, and you’re my next victim!” Punctuating his final words with a Bela Lugosi accent and raised claw-curled fingers, Zach burst out into laughter, almost doubling over and falling back onto the torn-up couch at the back of the room. “Oh man, the look on your face- Listen.” Taking a breath, he sat back up, elbows on his knees, raising an eyebrow with his quirked smirk. “If there was really something weird going on, don’t you think I’d feel it? I mean, I know I’m not the Supreme Sorcerer or whatever, but I’ve got a pretty damn good magic sense.” 

[callmezatara]

phoenixtouched​:

(✉️ ➡️ unknown ): My aim is fantastic. Don’t really have to aim with what I use though.

[…] (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): We’re not talking about that kind of aiming. (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): Confidently, I can say… 3/10. Maybe. (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): It’s complicated. (✉️ ➡️ unknown ): If it was just /anyone/, I would say by the end of the day.

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Ho boy... [ DELETED ]

[ . . . ]

[ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Oof, those are some odds. [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Oh, you think you’ve got that kind of sway?  [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Damn, where’s that hypnosis for dummies book [ DELETED ] [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : Count me a lucky guy then, I have no moving target to worry about~  [ ✉ ⟹ Unknown ] : May as well hand over that hundo

[callmezatara]

twentyninetynines​:

@callmezatara

It was the posters that caught his attention. Live for one night only - Zachary Zatara! Miguel found himself staring at it, mapping the features of the man pictured on the page as if looking for something familiar. He knew, on some level, that Zee had a family. Logically, he knew that this meant he had more family here than just Tony, Zatanna, and the Stones. But… knowing it and seeing it were two vastly different things. Curiosity drove him in the door, pulled money from his pocket and convinced him to buy a ticket. 

It was a decent show. Good, probably, to anyone less cynical than Miguel, anyone less entranced by the magic of something that had nothing to do with the tricks being performed and everything to do with the man performing them. He found himself tracing each movement, searching for familiarity in the flair of it all. That twist of the hands, that quirk of the lips, was it a genetic thing too? It was harder, he found, to map these things on his grandmother’s cousin than it was on the people more directly related to him. But… still not impossible. Not for a geneticist. Not for Miguel. 

He didn’t realize how intensely he must have been staring until the show was over and most of the crowd had cleared out, until the star performer was standing over his table with a quizzical look. Miguel blinked, bringing his glass of water against his lips just to give himself something to do. “Uh, it was… Nice show,” he said when it became clear that not talking would be more awkward than talking. “The thing with the…” He gestured vaguely. “It was neat.” 

/

          Everything had to be perfect. Didn’t matter the venue, didn’t matter the crowd size. Everything had to go smooth or not at all. Usually, if he could count on his cards to do quick tricks in whatever greenroom they’d given him beforehand, then he wouldn’t have to cut any acts. Tonight was one of those nights: he’d caught all his Aces and only one of them managed to flip upside down. Never mind the fact that it was the Heart, never mind that he had pushed away his cartomancy curiosities in favor of the relief that came with a near perfect practice pull. Night was gonna be a good one.

          True to form, and the mystical reading, everything went right. Applause was applause and reactions were reactions. It wasn’t as impressive as turning someone into a frog, but making coins and cards appear out of seeming thin air garnered enough curious looks to make him grin. He could only hope that his routine wasn’t so similar to his cousins, something the stray critic may cite as another copy cat when they don’t know they’re watching the original, the greatest, the one who’s going to take the name and shoot it through the stars (and maybe land on a Star in Hollywood. Now wouldn’t that be something?)

          He’d done a few bows and stayed on stage for the stray selfie with people looking more to update their circles on their nightly events than becoming Zatara fans. He’d talked to the man with the push-broom who cleared the small staging area of confetti and dusty ash and dusted his own gloves off as he passed by. All that, and still, someone was watching him. Cold eyes turned back around to the lone patron seemingly hypnotized by his performance, walking slowly up to the table and leaning on it with a raised brow, drawling, “Hey. I’m not a mentalist. You know those tricks to stick around and grab personal time with me don’t work like that, yeah?”

          It took a bit more than a few seconds for Zach to get a response, and one that didn’t address his question at all. How deep was this guy in thought? The laugh was almost a scoff, standing back up with his hands brushing back the tails of his coat before resting on his hips. “Gee, thanks. Love the technical jargon you’re using. I’ll keep that in mind for next week.”