psychometry

It was the kind of impromptu question that usually accompanied someone like Mezato-san, maybe even Tome-san, but when Mob turned to face the speaker, he knew it was neither. Instead, he was greeted with a girl he had never seen before. In the brief moment they met eyes, he blanched at the thought that perhaps they did know each other, maybe he forgot her face somehow. The feeling dissipated when he noticed that the girl was a psychic, too. He blinked several times as if to shoo away the rush of panic. “uh, t-telekinesis.” He wondered why she wanted to know but, in that moment of panic, the words tumbled from his lips before he could catch them. “w-what about you?”

“What’s with this sassy…lost child?” 

“Is that so.”

Another psychic kid. Is it something in the air? Am I wearing some kind of cursed object that draws psychic kids to me? Wait- what kind of psychic? She’s not telepathic, is she? Listen, if you’re telepathic, it’s rude to eavesdrop-

Reigen clears his throat, fingers drumming on the top of his desk. Pinky to index to index to pinky, and back again in a rapid-fire cascade of tapping. 

In front of a real psychic, Reigen has to be more than a little cautious, but he’s managed to keep the jig up in front of Mob all these years, has he not?  … Somehow. But he attributes that more to Mob’s nature as, to put it kindly, a little unobservant, than he does his own skill with deception. Not that he’s not skilled at deception. 

“Psychics get younger and younger these days, I swear.” He leans back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. “But it’s not good to rely too heavily on your psychic powers. You have other abilities and hobbies, right?”

       She has to stifle the laugh that wants to escape. He’s becoming more agitated, and she can feel the air around him growing just a tiny bit tenser. Though she suppresses a giggle, she doesn’t do so with her smile, leaving that to gleam in its mischievous entirety. ( She does not hear his thoughts, but she can imagine what he’s thinking in a moment like this. )

       ❝I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, so it’s likely that I’ve been able to use it since I was born.❞ She, too, leans back in her provided chair, bare hands folded together. He hasn’t questioned her authenticity yet, which is both surprising and refreshing. Most people would scoff and claim that she’s a liar or a little kid playing make-believe. It’s nice to not have to prove herself, for once... of course, that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to anyway. What’s even more surprising is that he tries to steer the conversation to something more casual, which has Angela tilting her head to one side in curiosity. He couldn’t be genuinely curious about her domestic life, could he? 

“So you’ve got a scholar’s heart.”

Rubberneckers and skeptics weren’t uncommon in Reigen’s line of business. Everyone wanted to be the smartest person in the room; everyone wanted to proclaim they were the one person without wool over their eyes, elevated above the sheeple or what have you. Or- even without ulterior motives- people were simply seized with curiosity about the neighborhood psychic. Do you know my future? Do you know the winning lotto numbers for tomorrow? How will I die?

Reigen usually headed those off at the pass by saying that he was a spiritualist, not clairvoyant- important difference. And usually a little good advice and listening could take care of the rest. That was the thing about being a fraud- he could never look too interested in disproving he was a fraud. Even pros make mistakes. 

He sits at his desk and gestures at the seat across from him, indicating the girl sit. “It’s important at your age to have passion. Be it for the occult, model kits, sports, obscure 80s sentai shows- hobbies enrich the soul. Adds depth to your aura, you know.”

       ❝You could say that.❞ At the very least, his guess isn’t entirely incorrect. Her insatiable appetite for knowledge does lead her down odd and long-winded paths, much like this one. She could have been home instead, but her curiosity would have harassed her twice as much the next day, and so on. For someone who has such high impulse control, she sure takes a lot of detours.

       To his motion, she nods in thanks and follows along, now taking the time to practice politeness. Carefully, she seats herself, tucking her schoolbag beneath the seat then shifting to a straight posture. The gloves she’d been fiddling with are quietly slipped off her hands and placed gingerly within her lap for the time being.

Of course his first client in a while is just a kid. Reigen should expect as much; these days it’s come to be that his entire clientele is a revolving door of kids. 

Oughta get paid for babysitting, really. He counts his blessings- at least he wasn’t smoking when she came in. Hates to smoke in front of kids, but hates wasting a cigarette when he has to hurriedly stub it out. 

“The one and only Reigen Arataka, yes. Spirit consultant, exorcist, incredible psychic and rising star of the paranormal world.” Reigen’s hands move swiftly to punctuate each descriptor, gesturing with enough force to rustle the leaves on his small office plant.  “And you seem like someone who’s come seeking guidance. Let’s see….” She looked about, what, fourteen? Kids that age were always in need of guidance. (Look at Mob.) So it was just a matter of guessing what the thing was. The eyepatch was…. kinda edgy. Was it for style or function? Either way, a kid with an eyepatch was bound to stick out like a sore thumb.

“Hm. Trouble with your peers- or your family. Right?”

       ❝Uh.... huh.❞ 

       She’s thoroughly unimpressed. His introduction was grandiose in order to lift himself up, to raise his personal importance -- she assumes it’s to compensate for something. Judging by the sore lack of power in his aura, she feels confident in her assumption that it’s because of that. She’d heard rumors of people prying on the public’s vulnerabilities, but to see it in reality is something else. She foregoes calling him out immediately, instead deciding to observe a little while longer. The girl leans casually against the wall, arms crossed as she continues to survey him. ( She’s pleasantly surprised with herself in finding the wall so easily; perhaps she’s finally getting used to the lack of depth perception. )

        ❝So, you’re REALLY an exorcist? Or some kind of spirit consultant?❞ 

          ‘  i would hope so as well.  ’ small frame maneuvers self from behind counter, moving towards rows of flowers. hand waves in other’s direction. ‘  come this way then. we’ll take a look at a few.  ’

          ‘  depends on the type of apology you want to give, no ? even apology flowers have different meanings. also depends on who you’re gifting said apology too.  ’

       ❝... So, what are the best flowers to use for an apology bouquet?❞

       ❝--?❞

       ❝What the--?!❞ Upon peeking into the bag, she spots a handful of goodies in there: leather gloves (the words ‘love’ and ‘hate’ printed on one and the other), a hand-knit scarf with her initials, and a roll of cash that amounts to $400. There is a rare sight of extreme emotion in her expression, evidenced by her widened eye and minimal stammers. 

       ❝Christ almighty, Fleur! Are these what you’d consider casual gifts?! Shit, I’m scared to see how much you’d give Katie!❞ The first two are, of course, normal; it’s the money that she’s objecting to. She sometimes forgets how loaded this kid is. ❝... I don’t remember telling you about my birthday, either. Or did you do something like this for me last year? Normally anyone would lump in my birthday gifts as Christmas gifts since the days are so close.❞