“So what’s the goal here?” Kaleb said, watching the silver ballpoint pen as Adelaide had ordered.
“I’m trying to make you pass out,” she said, spinning the pen over her thumb and catching it in her fingers. It was a gesture her father had taught her. A seemingly simple movement, but employing the right focus, it could cause hypnosis. However, Adelaide didn’t know how to practice her mind control using this method. She had only been successful when pairing it with words, not movements.
“Oh, is that all?” Kaleb said with an undeterred laugh. He’d merely been at the Institute for a couple of days, but already his easy attitude and casual nature made him seem like a Lucidite.
“Would you shut your bloody mouth and concentrate?” Adelaide said, knowing that was actually not how this attempt at hypnosis should work. Ren’s book of secrets said that a successful hypnotic gesture should catch the attention of a distracted person and hold it. This was only Adelaide’s first attempt, though, and she’d work on perfecting it later.
“So what happens after I pass out? You write on my face and take pictures?” Kaleb said, not having heeded Adelaide’s request to be quiet.
“Actually, before you pass out, you’ll be subject to any of my requests. With a simple demand I can make you do a whole list of horrid things. I’ll also have access to your memories, thoughts, and pretty much whatever other rubbish resides in your tiny brain,” she said, spinning the pen around and around, knowing the more fluid the motion, the more compelling it was to the observer.
“Are all British people as insulting as you?” Kaleb said, blinking his eyes from the act of watching the pen.
“No, I take insults to an exemplary level. But British people aren’t as fake as Americans,” she said, hearing the interruption at her back. Someone had just entered the strategic department conference space. Two somebodies, by the sound of their footsteps.
Adelaide turned to find her two least favorite people. “Oh good, the meatheads are here,” she said as Zephyr and Rox entered the space.
“I don’t think you mean that. You’re not actually happy to see us,” Rox said, walking into the room like a trucker, wearing her cowboy boots and a short jean skirt.