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[evocation]

This is Kyna. You should just text me if you actually want me to answer.

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[evocation]

[Kyna takes the gauntlet from him and slides it onto her hand, shooting him a smile. There are two unfortunate things about this: One, Kyna is used to aiming spells, which takes just a thought, and two, the gauntlet is too big for her. She finds the trigger anyway, points the flamethrower at the table, and shoots.

And, of course, overshoots by about a foot.]

Shit. That didn't count.

[requiemshark]

[Generally, operating a flame thrower takes at least three hours of instruction, careful supervision, and protective gear. Ephemera did intend to give Kyna a brief once-over of how the gauntlet works, but she has it on and aimed before he can think up the right words.

Well, that works too.

Ephemera laughs, clapping.]

You sure? That's your last free one.

[He pauses.]

Straighten your arm a bit more. Try again.

[evocation]

[She does, then glances over at him.]

Like this?

[Admittedly, she's a little stiff.]

[requiemshark]

[Ephemera tips his head to the side, assessing her stance.]

Do like you're throwing a punch. Don't lock your elbow. And bend your knees.

[evocation]

[She shoots him a look.]

I don't know how to throw a punch.

[But she follows his advice anyway. Better!]

[requiemshark]

How do you not know how to throw a punch?

[Doesn't she fight for a living???

Ephemera hums to himself.]

Better. Give that a try. But we have to fix the punching thing.

[evocation]

Because I can cast spells.

[And obviously that's all she needs! She tries again, being much more careful with her aim this time, and actually manages to hit the table, letting out a delighted laugh.]

[requiemshark]

[Despite fully intending to mock Kyna for her lack of punching ability, Ephemera laughs with real delight when she hits the target. Flames hiss. He likes the sound. The way the wood gets scorched and blackened. How it wilts a little as it burns. Everything exactly as it should be.]

There you go!

[evocation]

See? I knew I was cooler than you.

[requiemshark]

Says the woman who can't throw a punch.

[Ephemera gestures for the gauntlet.]

We're gonna fix that. Like, now.

[evocation]

You want me to punch you with the gauntlet?

[Hopefully he didn't expect to get out of this hang out session without shit talking.]

[requiemshark]

[Ephemera snorts.]

Nah. You'd fuck up the fuel canisters. Which your boyfriend just fixed.

[Is Washington her boyfriend? It only occurs to Ephemera to wonder after he's said it.

Oh. Fuck. Uh.]

....nevermindgiveithere.

[evocation]

[Kyna actually doesn't look phased by the "boyfriend" comment, but she still shoots him a look as she hands it over.]

What's wrong?

[requiemshark]

[Ephemera looks away quickly, taking the gauntlet back.]

That's not my business.

[evocation]

What? Oh.

[The boyfriend thing?]

I don't care if you ask. Or talk about it.

[requiemshark]

[Ephemera blinks, glancing back at her.]

...oh.

[He assumed it would be, for some reason. Probably because of the argument they had on Kyna's doorstep not so long ago, where he learned how awesome Washington was in bed.

Yeah, not going there.]

I said some stuff. Before. That I shouldn't have. I'm. Sorry about that.

[evocation]

[She tilts her head, considering that.]

About Wash?

[requiemshark]

Uh huh.

[evocation]

Yeah, well...

[She shrugs.]

It's okay. You should probably apologize to him, though.

[requiemshark]

Yeah. But I didn't say that shit to him.

[Him and Washington have their own stuff to deal with. That's not on Kyna.

Ephemera is quiet for a long moment, fussing with his gauntlet before clicking it back into place.]

I get you, most of the time. This -- history, that's not on you.

[evocation]

Yeah, it's not.

[It's her turn to fidget, toying with her necklace.]

I'm just going on what you guys are telling me.

[requiemshark]

[Ephemera pauses.]

....would it help? If I, dunno, answered your questions or something?

[He's not sure what to do with this situation, this moment.]

[evocation]

Um...

[She bites her lip, thinking.]

Maybe you could just... tell me what happened?

[They've never really had a completely calm conversation about this.]

[requiemshark]

[Part of Ephemera wants to refuse, laugh it off with a joke and just go back to lighting shit on fire. This was supposed to be easy. Something fun, something to lighten the fucking mood and distract from all the shit that's gone down lately.

But he does owe her this.

Ephemera exhales. Nods.]

Yeah. Okay.

[He's quiet for a moment.]

How much did Washington tell you?

[evocation]

Um...

[God, where does she start?]

He told me everything about Freelancer. [And then, more firmly:] And he told me he didn't kill Connie.