#but at least what i was told was pallets should always be laid down unless youre moving them by hand

[killjoy-prince]

AH! SAEYOUNG!!

[ruewrites]

On the Road

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus

Word Count: 2201

Warnings: None

A/N: Day 2 of Solodeus Week! I decided to do Road Trip this time around as I've done some requests surrounding cooking (not that I mind writing about Solomon's interesting culinary skills). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Asmo played with the radio dial, switching it back and forth. Sometimes he hit static, talk shows, but he hadn't found a song he liked yet. Solomon's little old car was packed with their things and Asmo wondered from time to time if he could actually see out of the back, but at this point he was too afraid to ask.

Solomon's car was a rickety old thing that had Asmo concerned on more than one occasion. Honestly, he was surprised that it had made it this far on the trip. Solomon could afford a nicer one, Asmo knew he could, but Solomon stated that this one had "character" whatever that meant. If it meant "will probably leave us abandoned on the side of the road one day" Asmo could see himself agreeing. But when push came to shove, it did work well enough to take them on a little road trip. Taking them back would be another story.

"I meant to ask earlier," one of Solomon's hands rested outside the window as the other stayed steadfast on the wheel, "Is that a new skirt?"

Oh, so he had been attentive. Asmo had been wondering when he'd ask. His only kement right now was that he couldn't stand up and show off. He had half a mind to make Solomon pull over so he could show off.

The last road trip he’d been on was meant to serve as a retreat in the human world. That also meant that Asmo hadn’t gotten any alone time with Solomon. Yes, shenanigans had played a rather significant role, but Lucifer had his eyes on them like a hawk. Anything that Asmo had brought to show off his legs had mysteriously disappeared until the end of the retreat. Not to mention, Lucifer had tactically placed himself between the two of them whenever he deemed them as being “too close”. No one else noticed, but Asmo certainly had. He loved his brothers, he did, but Lucifer had been a little too protective for his tastes on that trip. He knew he wasn’t fond of Solomon, but really? He was a grown demon, he could care for himself.

But he didn’t have any annoying protective big brothers on this trip, just him and Solomon, and Solomon noticing his new clothes.

"It is," Asmo confirmed, moving his hand away from the dial, content with whatever was now softly playing in the background, "You should know that I picked out an entire wardrobe just for this little trip."

"It looks nice," Solomon's eyes glanced down to his thighs before returning to the road.

"I think I look a little more than nice thank you very much."

Solomon only chuckled in response. "Of course. Anyways we'll be coming up on our first stop soon."

"And you can take all sorts of pictures of me?"

"If that's what you wish."

Asmo grinned before looking down at his D.D.D. He'd taken a few pictures ready of him in the passenger seat for his Devilgram. Obviously most of his followers went crazy when he managed to post content of him and Solomon together. Asmodeus was attractive already, but having an insanely powerful and hot sorcerer as a boyfriend? Oh they ate it up. Of course there was the occasional jealous fan or ex popping up in his comment, but he didn't even need to lift a finger, everyone else would take care of them for him.

Soon gravel cracked underneath them and the car came to a stop. "Alright, this is our first stop," Solomon undid his seat belt and got out of the car. Asmo looked up from his phone and his nose scrunched up ever so slightly.

Solomon opened his door and he immediately voiced his thoughts, "Solomon, why is our first stop a giant pile of rocks?" Large slabs of stone laid toppled over and broken before him. Some were still upright and intact, but even those looked like they would crumple at any moment. Asmo could already imagine the dust clogging up his pours and sinuses the moment he stepped in there.

"It's not a pile of rocks," Solomon took Asmo's hand, helping him out of the car, "They're ruins. I've read about them before so I just had to mark it as one of our stops.”

Oh of course he had to go and fall for a nerd, but he was a hot nerd. A hot nerd who loved him more than anything. So he let Solomon take his hand as he led him into the ruins.

Many of their stops were akin to this one. Ancient artifacts, buildings long lost to time, old magic, so on and so on. Solomon had kept his promise, finding wonderful spots to take pictures of him for his Devilgram, and each new photo had all of his little darlings blowing up his phone. Even if Asmo wasn’t interested in the stops too much so far, he did adore Solomon’s dazzling smile. He got so excited, talking fast and gesturing as he explained every little thing to Asmo. Every now and again he’d even pull a book out from his bag and compare pictures to the real thing. His voice was full of life as he scribbled down little notes.

And so who was to judge him if he got a little doe-eyed gooey hearted every time he opened his mouth? What did they have any right to say a thing if he kissed his cheek and nuzzled into his side?

Even if he didn’t like these things, he liked Solomon, and spending time with Solomon was something he would always treasure.

Each night was different too. Some nights they slept in the car, some nights they found a nice hotel, sometimes a small motel that had Asmo concerned about bed bugs, but each time he got to spend a night by Solomon’s side. Some nights he was even able to coax Solomon into having a bit of fun if they were both in the mood, and other nights he was more than content to just doze off in his arms.

The food had also been interesting too. Asmo had always known the human world was diverse, but every few places they stopped seemed to have an entirely different pallet. The only downside would be that he had to fear for the future as Solomon discussed his plans to recreate certain meals when they got home.

Asmo would have to work double time to make sure that didn’t happen.

It was their seventh day on the road, when they made a rather special stop. Asmo hadn’t really been paying attention to where they were going, he was much more focused on flipping through the pictures he and Solomon had taken together while on the road. He was looking for a new lock screen, one he could flaunt. He had just found the perfect one when Solomon spoke up again.

“We’re here,” Solomon said as they came to yet another stop. He marked off something on his D.D.D. and turned the car off. He’d been keeping track of all the places they stopped at, striking them out when they arrived. Solomon had spent at least a month planning this trip from what Asmo knew, and he’d spent a lot of time thinking about where he wanted to go. However, he did sound a little more giddy about this one compared to the others.

This parking spot was a little more secluded. Trees, bushes, and vines surrounded them. Asmo kicked a few of the stones at his feet. Unlike the other stops, there didn’t seem to be anyone around. They’d pulled off the main roads to get onto a small dirt road, and the car was almost entirely hidden. “I think that you’ll enjoy this one. I’ve been here before and I always wanted to take you here.”

Asmo hesitated for a moment. This could either be an incredibly wonderful thing, or an incredibly terrible thing knowing his lover.

Solomon was standing in front of a deer path, holding his hand out for Asmo to take it, “Are you coming?”

Oh and that look in his eyes… That look was all it took.

Asmo wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking down the path. At one point Solomon had offered to carry him lest Asmo twist his ankle in his heels. Eventually Solomon muttered something under his breath and pulled back a curtain of vines, motioning for Asmo to go in first.

Asmo couldn’t stop the small gasp that left his lips.

Before his eyes was the most gorgeous oasis he had ever seen. Vibrant flora surrounded them as water tumbled down from a ledge and into a smooth rocky basin below. “When did you-?”

“I found it on one of my travels,” Solomon started, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to the ground below, “The moment I saw it, I knew I had to take you here, and what better convenience than to make it a stop on our trip?”

Asmo hadn’t even realized that both of his hands were covering his mouth. He couldn’t believe this. He had to be dreaming. He must have fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat when Solomon was driving. They were probably still on the road with the radio fighting with static in the background. Cold hands enveloped his own, bringing them to his bare chest.

“Don’t you want to get in?”

The water was a lot deeper than Asmo expected, coming up a little past his waist. He was careful not to get his hair wet. After all, Solomon had told him that they’d most likely end up sleeping in the car tonight, unless they could find something on their way. Solomon threaded their fingers together, his free hand wandered up Asmo’s waist.

“This is why I was so excited to bring you on this trip,” his eyes sparkled even more than when he was gushing over the ruins, “All I could think about was how much you’d love it here when I first found it.”

He leaned in closer, brushing his lips against Asmo’s.

If there was one thing that made this place even better, it was having Solomon in front of him looking nothing short of perfection. From each lean muscle, glistening with water, his perfect v-line, all the way to his pact marks twisting and turning all over his body. Of course, Asmo’s eyes were always drawn to his own pact mark, and he couldn’t help but lean in and press his lips against it.

“I love it,” Asmo murmured against his skin, “I love it so much Solomon. Thank you.”

They stayed like this as they slowly sunk down into the water.

***

The occasional car lit up the highway as they drove on. Asmo had stolen one of Solomon’s sweatshirts from the back to stay warm. His hair was still damp, and fresh curls had slowly started to take from. Solomon was humming softly along with the radio, fingers tapping on the wheel as he did so. He’d allowed his bangs to be pinned back as his hair dried, and if that wasn’t a wonderful sight Asmo didn’t know what was. He snuggled deeper into the hoodie, a sleepy smile stretching over his face.

“Pull over at the next exit,” Asmo murmured, his fingers moving over to rest on Solomon’s thigh.

“I can drive a little longer.”

“I know, but I want to fall asleep with you.” Asmo was trying to fight sleep, but he was slowly succumbing. His beauty routine be damned, he wanted to find some way to cuddle in the backseat. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but he could have Solomon’s warmth next to him.

He could see Solomon’s face light up a little as another car passed them by. Oh he was so beautiful.

Without another word, Solomon pulled off on the next exit until he came to a place where he could comfortably part for the night. There wasn't an inn or a motel in sight, and that was okay. Situating themselves in the back came with a few curses and giggles and everything in between. After what seemed like hours, they finally became situated, pillows and blankets and all. Their fingers were threaded together, and grey eyes staring adoringly at him.

Screw it.

Sleep could wait.

No brothers.

No angels.

No one to bother them.

What could he say? Asmo was an opportunist, and it wasn’t like they needed to be anywhere early tomorrow.

With a giggle, Asmo was yanking a rather surprised Solomon on top of him. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted as he was planting kisses on his boyfriend’s face as Solomon struggled with finding places to put his limbs, but it didn’t matter.

Asmo always felt like his most authentic self when he was with Solomon. He couldn’t think of anyone else in which he’d been a giggling mess of tangled limbs. He was Asmo’s other half, and he counted and saved every moment they shared together.

He was going to cherish this trip.

They had days ahead of them, and Asmo wanted to make it memorable.

[phoebosacerales]

The 6th house in Astrology

I thought I'd just share this excerpt from "The Plague", which feels like a whole lesson on the 6th house, while also being very relevant in these times of covid-19. It says a lot more than I could ever try to say and explain about the joy of Mars.

"The word 'plague' had just been uttered for the first time. At this stage of the narrative, with Dr. Bernard Rieux standing at his window, the narrator may, perhaps, be allowed to justify the doctor's uncertainty and surprise, since, with very slight differences, his reaction was the same as that of the great majority of our townsfolk. Everybody knows that pestilences have a way of recurring in the world; yet somehow we find it hard to believe in ones that crash down on our heads from a blue sky. There have been as many plagues as wars in history; yet always plagues and wars take people equally by surprise.

In fact, like our fellow citizens, Rieux was caught off his guard, and we should understand his hesitations in the light of this fact; and similarly understand how he was torn between conflicting fears and confidence. When a war breaks out, people say: 'It's too stupid; it can't last long.' But though a war may well be 'too stupid', that doesn't prevent its lasting. Stupidity has a knack of getting its way; as we should see if we were not always so much wrapped up in ourselves.

In this respect our townsfolk were like everybody else, wrapped up in themselves; in other words they were humanists: they disbelieved in pestilences.

A pestilence isn't a thing made to man's measure; therefore we tell ourselves that pestilence is a mere bogy of the mind, a bad dream that will pass away. But it doesn't always pass away and, from one bad dream to another, it is men who pass away, and the humanists first of all, because they haven't taken their precautions.

Our townsfolk were not more to blame than others; they forgot to be modest, that was all, and thought that everything still was possible for them; which presupposed that pestilences were impossible. They went on doing business, arranged for journeys, and formed views. How should they have given a thought to anything like plague, which rules out any future, cancels journeys, silences the exchange of views. They fancied themselves free, and no one will ever be free so long as there are pestilences.

Indeed, even after Dr. Rieux had admitted in his friend's company that a handful of persons, scattered about the town, had without warning died of plague, the danger still remained fantastically unreal. For the simple reason that, when a man is a doctor, he comes to have his own ideas of physical suffering, and to acquire somewhat more imagination than the average. Looking from his window at the town, outwardly quite unchanged, the doctor felt little more than a faint qualm for the future, a vague unease.

He tried to recall what he had read about the disease. Figures floated across his memory, and he recalled that some thirty or so great plagues known to history had accounted for nearly a hundred million deaths. But what are a hundred million deaths? When one has served in a war, one hardly knows what a dead man is, after a while. And since a dead man has no substance unless one has actually seen him dead, a hundred million corpses broadcast through history are no more than a puff of smoke in the imagination. The doctor remembered the plague at Constantinople that, according to Procopius, caused ten thousand deaths in a single day. Ten thousand dead made about five times the audience in a biggish cinema. Yes, that was how it should be done. You should collect the people at the exits of five picture-houses, you should lead them to a city square and make them die in heaps if you wanted to get a clear notion of what it means. Then at least you could add some familiar faces to the anonymous mass. But naturally that was impossible to put into practice; moreover, what man knows ten thousand faces? In any case the figures of those old historians, like Procopius, weren't to be relied on; that was common knowledge. Seventy years ago, at Canton, forty thousand rats died of plague before the disease spread to the inhabitants. But, again, in the Canton epidemic there was no reliable way of counting up the rats. A very rough estimate was all that could be made, with, obviously, a wide margin for error.

'Let's see,' the doctor murmured to himself, "supposing the length of a rat to be ten inches, forty thousand rats placed end to end would make a line of...'

He pulled himself up sharply. He was letting his imagination play pranks, the last thing wanted just now. A few cases, he told himself, don't make an epidemic; they merely call for serious precautions. He must fix his mind, first of all, on the observed facts: stupor and extreme prostration, buboes, intense thirst, delirium, dark blotches on the body, internal dilatation, and, in conclusion... In conclusion, some words came back to the doctor's mind; aptly enough, the concluding sentence of the description of the symptoms given in his medical handbook: 'The pulse becomes fluttering, dicrotic, and intermittent, and death ensues as the result of the slightest movement.' Yes, in conclusion, the patient's life hung on a thread, and three people out of four (he remembered the exact figures) were too impatient not to make the very slight movement that snapped the thread.

The doctor was still looking out of the window. Beyond it lay the tranquil radiance of a cool spring sky; inside the room a word was echoing still, the word 'plague'. A word that conjured up in the doctor's mind not only what science chose to put into it, but a whole series of fantastic possibilities utterly out of keeping with that gray and yellow town under his eyes, from which were rising the sounds of mild activity characteristic of the hour; a drone rather than a bustling, the noises of a happy town, in short, if it's possible to be at once so dull and happy. A tranquillity so casual and thoughtless seemed almost effortlessly to give the lie to those old pictures of the plague: Athens, a charnel-house reeking to heaven and deserted even by the birds; Chinese towns cluttered up with victims silent in their agony; the convicts at Marseille piling rotting corpses into pits; the building of the Great Wall in Provence to fend off the furious plague-wind; the damp, putrefying pallets stuck to the mud floor at the Constantinople lazar-house, where the patients were hauled up from their beds with hooks; the carnival of masked doctors at the Black Death; men and women copulating in the cemeteries of Milan; cartloads of dead bodies rumbling through London's ghoul-haunted darkness, nights and days filled always, everywhere, with the eternal cry of human pain. No, all those horrors were not near enough as yet even to ruffle the equanimity of that spring afternoon. The clang of an unseen streetcar came through the window, briskly refuting cruelty and pain. Only the sea, murmurous behind the dingy checkerboard of houses, told of the unrest, the precariousness, of all things in this world. And, gazing in the direction of the bay, Dr. Rieux called to mind the plague-fires of which Lucretius tells, which the Athenians kindled on the seashore. The dead were brought there after nightfall, but there was not room enough, and the living fought one another with torches for a space where to lay those who had been dear to them; for they had rather engage in bloody conflicts than abandon their dead to the waves. A picture rose before him of the red glow of the pyres mirrored on a wine-dark, slumbrous sea, battling torches whirling sparks across the darkness, and thick, fetid smoke rising toward the watchful sky. Yes, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility....

But these extravagant forebodings dwindled in the light of reason. True, the word 'plague had been uttered; true, at this very moment one or two victims were being seized and laid low by the disease. Still, that could stop, or be stopped. It was only a matter of lucidly recognizing what had to be recognized; of dispelling extraneous shadows and doing what needed to be done. Then the plague would come to an end, because it was unthinkable, or, rather, because one thought of it on misleading lines. If, as was most likely, it died out, all would be well. If not, one would know it anyhow for what it was and what steps should be taken for coping with and finally overcoming it.

The doctor opened the window, and at once the noises of the town grew louder.

The brief, intermittent sibilance of a machine-saw came from a near-by workshop.

Rieux pulled himself together. There lay certitude; there, in the daily round.

All the rest hung on mere threads and trivial contingencies; you couldn't waste your time on it. The thing was to do your job as it should be done."

"The Plague", by Albert Camus.

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Echo pt5

Warning: This is a little dark. There is blood, death, Strong Language and yeah … please read with caution. **Still not sure what direction this is taking so I should add a warning for Author with no plot **

Masterlist

—

Echo part 5

“So, they brought someone back.” The deep voice resonated in the cave that served as their meeting place. Red eyes betrayed the hint of interest even as the owner’s voice did not. After delivering the news it seemed as if nothing of the unusual circumstance had been of great surprise to the black-haired Lord.

“But why bring back something from another realm like that? What advantage could be gained from doing such a thing?” The wild one-eyed lord grumbled plunging one of his blades into the dirt by his feet where he had been using its tip to idly draw.

“A fine question. What advantage indeed?” The white messenger agreed with the smile on his face broadening.

“You look like you have something to say.” Sounding irritated, as usual, the young blonde addressed him.

“He always does the question is will he tell us?”

“Come now do you really trust me so little?” Yellow eyes cast themselves over the faces of the gathering. One was unreadable, two seemed to be doing a poor job of hiding frustration, one was showing enthusiasm and one was turned down eyes following ink on parchment as if none of what was happening around them existed. “It is a fine question to ask as to what advantage could be gained by such actions but the more interesting part has yet to be determined.”

“Meaning?” Imperial to a fault the self-appointed head of their little group leant forward at this. the Interest they failed to show earlier clearly visible now.

“To who’s advantage it would benefit naturally.”

---

In an elegant guest room of the palace almost translucent swaths of fabric rustled in a warm breeze that swept into the room. The blank almost too pure colour pallet of the room consisted of chiefly whites and muted shades of pink did little to create a sense of comfort. It was much more accurate to say that it put you naturally on edge as if you were in a clinical environment awaiting some form of treatment.

It was hard to say how long it had been since they were bought here. She never wore a watch as they tended to make her feel impatient. She was also pretty sure her cell phone was laying back by her car so it wasn’t even like she could check that even if she could. Her body ached. That is to say, she thought it was her body. She could feel the soft cool sheets under her back taking on the heat from her. She could see the light, outlines of objects and hear faint noises somewhere in the distance. But that was all she could really do.

Blue eyes remained open and locked in place staring at the ceiling as her lifeless body had been laid out on the four-poster bed. It was what she imagined patients suffering from locked-in syndrome might feel. To be fully conscious and yet unable to move. Like Alice trapped behind a looking glass.

Kit willed herself to move. Anything even just a small fraction of a twitch. There was no logic behind the feeling she had but something was telling her that if she could do at least that much then whatever was trapping her in this state would brake and release her. She tried. Mind over matter, again and again. Just as her frustration was reaching its limit, she heard the sound of a door opening and a sickening scent assaulted her nose.

“Ah! There you are.” A shrill voice that felt like needles in her brain spoke. A shadow fell over her and it took a few seconds for Kit’s glassy eyes to adjust and make out the form in front of her. Blonde hair, blue eyes… but human. At least more human than the creature that put that gunk on her arm and brought her here. “Oh dear, dear, dear… whatever have they done to you my little pet?” A chilled hand caressed her cheek as the supposedly concerned words failed once more to match the tone of voice.

“My Queen this is…” Kit recognised that voice. It was the creature that brought her here. So, these two know each other? And he just called her “My Queen”.

“I can see perfectly well who they are. You can leave.” A flint-like sharpness came with clipped words from the woman hanging over her as she replied.

“My Queen I—” The creature stammered.

“Unless you wish to stay and explain to me in more detail how this happened?” The Queen turned her back to Kit so she couldn’t see the expression on their face. She couldn’t see the creature either but something told her it probably looked something like a small animal in a trap.

“But you—”

“GO!” The Queen practically roared and the scouts entire body jumped at the sound. They quickly vanished through the door closing it behind them. “Loathsome little creatures…” With the sounds of scurrying footsteps leaving fading away the Queen corrected her expression masking the anger from before well and turned back to the still very immobile Kit. “Well now. Let’s get you up, shall we? I would like to get a better look at my daughter after all.”

Daughter!?

---

Flashing lights without sirens shone through the windscreen in a blur as the wipers worked in double time against the rain. A group of men standing around in drenched uniforms were huddled under the trees crowding around a radio when he opened the driver’s door and shouted across at them.

“Why the hell didn’t you all just get back in your vehicles and wait?”

“Sir?” A man wearing a police uniform snapped his head up squinting through the rain in the direction of the voice.

“Honestly I don’t want to be that guy that makes a comment about how traffic cops in this area are a little strange but do you think you could just get over here Wilkinson and try not to drip on the upholstery?” Slamming the door shut again he tapped his fingers in a mindless fashion against the steering wheel and waited.

The officer called Wilkinson detached from the group and obediently climbed in the passenger side of the Met Chief’s Mercedes. The police issued waterproofs crinkled and rustled worse than a leaf blower in autumn. They were also slick with so much rain they had stopped looking like they were resisting the moisture and appeared to be clinging to the uniform under it as if they were painted onto it.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come all the way out here for this Chief.” Wilkinson was a man of very little note. He seemed to embody all things average, although you could argue that that in itself is something to pay attention too. Average, height, build, general appearance. It would be difficult to pick him out in a line up of suspects should you ever have a need too as he really was the type to have a forgettable face.

“I was in the area. What do we know so far?”

“One of the Rangers called it in when he was checking the roads. Its common practice round here to check for potential landslips and dangerous trees. He came across the abandoned car. Lights were on and there was a big dent in the bonnet so he thought someone had hit something. He found a deer in the road but no sign of the driver.” Wilkinson filled in the details he had so far reading them from his notebook. The chief made sure to note that the man had at least had the common sense to use a pencil in this weather to make notes rather than rely on ink that would run and become impossible later on to read.

“And why did you call it into the high ups after attending if it was only an abandoned vehicle? You could have run the plates and traced the owner. Seen if it’s a stolen reg and dealt with it like that.”

“Because there were police files on the front seat. Signs of gunfire in that tree over there,” Wilkinson pointed at a tree with splintered bark in front of where the car was parked. “And…”

“And?” The Chief encouraged the younger officer to continue.

“Well there isn’t signs of a struggle but it’s strange. Cell phone, bag everything left behind in the car. The deer according to the Ranger looks to be a fresh kill of a sort but there is no sign of blood.” Wilkinson frowned at the detail clearly confused. To be fair the Chief would have been too if he had not already been aware of the strange activities in the area.

“No blood… And you ran the reg? Who was wandering around up here with police records and no backup?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt a chill creep up his spine and clamped his mouth shut.

“The Doc. Dr K.” The Doc had made a name for herself in these parts going out of her way to run free clinics on weekends a few times a month that treated everyone from homeless vets to just your average joe public that had no money, no insurance but was sick as a damn dog. Whether she was aware of the support she gained from doing such things was yet to be seen as Kit never once showed one glimpse of caring about such things. She did what she did because she believed it to be right that was enough for her and if someone hated or loved her for it was their issue, not hers.

“Alright Wilkinson go finish getting statements and contact info then head back to base I’ll take it from here and check in later.” The Chief was already patting down his jacket looking for his cell.

“Sir… this is an unusual case to be sure but do you really think that the Met…?”

“The Met is already involved because it was us that reached out to the Doc in the first place. I have to make some phone calls.” The Chief waved the newly found phone in his hand signally this conversation to be over. Details of this were still very much need to know and until he could say otherwise, he didn’t need more people involved.

“Understood. See ya later then Sir.”

Wilkinson tightened his grip on his collar and once more ventured back out into the rain. His dark form joining the small group again under the trees checking details of what he had already written in his notebook. The Chief watched the cop for a moment and chuckled. He had the man pegged as totally average but he had just shown a clear ability to make and draw fast connections. It was nothing more than to be expected of an officer but it did seem a little like a superpower when that gift was in Wilkinson’s skill set. He flipped open his cell phone and began looking through contact numbers until he found the one he wanted and held his breath as he hit the call button.

“Col? It’s me.”

---