mytarnishedsilver:
~
Sam sighed as Bailey barged on through the broken glass, glad, at least, that he was wearing shoes. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “I was able to use magic to protect myself.” She paused, wondering if she should tell him how exactly that happened. “It shouldn’t have worked, not that well, at least, not without a ritual, but I was holding the hand of this guy I met … well, he grabbed my hand as we were trying to get away, and it made my magic stronger. Holding is hand.” She bit the inside of her cheek in thought. “I think he might be my familiar.” She knew it didn’t always work like that, a bond one could feel between the witch and familiar before working together, but sometimes it did happen like that, and she didn’t know how else to explain what happened.
***
The relief that he felt upon finding Sam was short-lived, unsurprisingly wary upon hearing about her encounter with a stranger. Granted, she was smart and had good judgment and wasn’t four years old, but life as a career criminal and sometimes fugitive had fixed in him a deep-rooted and paranoid suspicion for anyone that hadn’t already proven their trustworthiness. (Bailey did not have many friends.)
“Maybe you’re just a better witch than you thought,” he said, aiming for encouragement and trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he didn’t like the sound of this ‘guy’ and was already devising ways to identify him. “I could make your magic stronger if I tried,” he said, tone heavy with skepticism. “What’s his name? What’s his deal?” Bailey interrogated super casually like a person who totally didn’t care at all.








