He turned his head up to the sky. The words “It’s going to rain” formed on his lips, but never quite left their harbor. Walking down the street, weaving through the people who were busily milling about, he knew that if he were to speak, no one would listen. That being so, there really was no point in speaking, was there? It was better to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Do you have some new ability that I don’t know about? Are you able to manipulate the weather to match your demeanor?”

His foot stilled mid-step, but within such a short time that the falter seemed like nothing more than a miniscule tear in a filmstrip, he was moving again. Just keep walking, he told himself resolutely. Ignore her, and she’ll go away. This became a mantra in his head, a prayer falling on the deaf ears of deities that didn’t exist in his world. And if they did exist, they’d never made their presence known to him. Quick, silver eyes cut a glance to his left as he caught sight of his follower to his right.

“Tsk, tsk,” she chided. “Why are you always so rude?”

“Why are you always so insufferable?” he shot back, his voice still managing to sound ablaze with ire though his tone was as cool as an autumn breeze. He still would not look at her.

“I was just checking up on you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You have a forked tongue.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“My, we’re being quick today, aren’t we?” An easy smirk danced across his lips.

“Just shut up and listen to me.”

His smirk fled in the presence of stony anger. Her sharp, demanding tone was a barb against his patience, a tug on the ball and chain that shackled his existence. “What do you want?” he deadpanned.

“You have another assignment.”

His breath escaped his nose in an heated huff as he waited for her to elaborate. Instead of a verbal explanation, a photograph was shoved in front of his face, the glossy surface glinting tauntingly in the bare presence of the sun. He took the photograph and, for the first time since speaking with this woman, turned to face her. He stopped walking, disturbing the flow of people down the sidewalk. Soon, the two of them became like stones in a stream.

“Him?” he asked, eyeing the photograph skeptically.

“Mmhm.”

“Do I have a choice?”

She sighed, putting her claw-like blue nails to her pale cheek in mock-contemplation. “You always ask the same thing, and my answer never changes.”

He shrugged uncaringly. “I have to try.” His weight shifted from one foot to the other impatiently, and he cocked his head inquiringly. “So?”

A coy smile spread across her painted lips. “Well, I would say that yes, you do have a choice.”

“I do?”

“Sure. You can refuse to carry out the assignment, and I put you back in the card. You agree to carry out the assignment, and you get to wander free.”

The term “free”had never sounded so restricting. He rolled his metallic eyes, grumbling, “Fine, Big Brother.” Straightening, he stuffed the photograph in his pocket and said, “I’ll do it.”

Her smile widened. “Good boy.” She patted him affectionately on the head. As he watched her go, melting into the flow of bodies, he could have sworn that the leash around his neck, the other end of which was tied to her wrist, was tangible and not just a metaphor of his imagination.

With that, Magus turned on his heel and walked in the other direction, back the way he came, to seek out his new assignment.