:conjures up a glass and a glorious beanbag to sprawl on: I can do company. Shall I talk, or listen? :fills the glass and admires the lights through it:
Talk first, I should say. Tell me, what is your story? :nonchalantly clinks the bottle against your glass and then drinks:
I’m a firechild. :sips, frowning slightly into the glass: I read others’ emotions, their inner fire, and make that foreign emotion into actual flame.
Do you? :laughs: You speak as if it is nothing.
:shuffles closer, leans dangerously close to your face: Show me.
Oh, it’s definitely not ‘nothing’. It shapes my life. :opens a hand, and flames lick up from the fingertips, red and gold and blue and every other colour: You’re pouring off enough now to fuel an inferno. It’ll start to hurt, soon, if I don’t burn it off or shield you out. :drinks again: