For the third time, he told himself this was not his problem. He did not have the time or energy to deal with another crisis. He’d averted the first disaster. It was not up to him to sit on any trouble he found. He was already baby-sitting enough disasters, and at least those disasters were old enough to sit quietly and play nice with the rest of the world while they schemed and plotted. This one… this one liked to run around poking its fingers into electrical sockets and Finn was all out of outlet covers.
Finn closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The city was already crawling with cops. Sneaking out was appealing, but impractical. They would be watching, and he stood out like cannon fire in a sepulchral silence. No, better to lay low. Better by far not to go back to the man he’d pulled out of the fire. And yet…
He was going to go back. That dark inquisitive mind had leapt at the idea of lessons. That someone in the world knew what he could do, and could teach him. One lesson in. Enough to contain basic disasters. Finn’s lips twitched. No more fingers into light sockets, but now he would look higher – into more dangerous areas for his curiosity. Finn could give him the ability to seriously injure himself and others, and he could not be responsible for the death of a careless student.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and listened to the radiator clang as it adjusted temperatures. The image of the man’s fever bright eyes aglow at the opportunity was painful. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing himself when he’d just set out on his own. Look at where that had landed him, and he was not half so powerful as this fledgling mage. A teacher could make a difference. Would have made a difference to him. Finn sighed. He’d teach. But the second Leon stepped a single skin cell out of line, Finn was gone. That disaster would not be on his hands. He’d give Leon the terms.
The door to his room opened.
“Hello Cen,” he said without opening his eyes.
“You got in trouble.”
“I’m always in trouble,” he returned. He opened one eye. “I’m handling it.”
Kathryn over at Nine Pages stole this first line to write, “Misplaced.” Check it out.