Ability Stealer

Andrew leaned back against the wall, the dim light of the single bulb overhead flickering faintly. Mella's voice broke the silence, her tone a little lighter than before. "So, do you have any alcohol in this place? Anything to take the edge off?"

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "I just started living here. Of course I don't have alcohol in the house."

She chuckled softly, the sound strained but genuine. "A woman can hope."

Andrew's lips quirked into a small smile. "Do you drink a lot?"

Mella shrugged, her hands resting loosely on her lap. "Only when I'm stressed." She sighed. "Which is... often. What about you? Do you ever drink?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I don't like the taste of most alcohol."

She tilted her head, curiosity evident. "So, what do you do when you're stressed?"

"Music," he said simply. "I like to drown everything out with sound. But I haven't been able to do that in a while. Sound-playbacks are expensive, and I haven't had the luxury in... ages."

"Sound-playbacks?" she echoed. 

"They're these little devices that play music, kind of like a pocket jukebox. My older brother's girlfriend had one when I was a kid. She lived in a city, and whenever she visited him, I'd borrow it. Used to listen for hours, just lying on the floor with my eyes closed."

Mella leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "Your brother sounds memorable."

Andrew nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. He's... cool. I guess I was always a little envious of him, between envying and admiring. He had this way of making things seem effortless, you know? Like he belonged wherever he went."

A faint smile crossed Mella's lips. "Hames was like that for me. Always talented, always the center of attention in my father's family." Her smile faded as quickly as it came. 

An awkward silence stretched between them before she finally broke it. "Andrew... what's your real ability?"

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly. "What?"

She met his gaze, her expression steady. "I've brought it up more than once, but you've always avoided answering. I'm not going to judge you. You must have your reasons for hiding it, but... I'm curious."

Andrew hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Even if I wanted to tell you, I can't."

Mella tilted her head, her tone more serious now. "What happens if people find out? Like at the Tower? If they figure out you've been lying about your ability, they'd take your ID, wouldn't they?"

His eyes narrowed further. "Wait... why couldn't the Tower just confirm my ability beforehand? It seems like they would've checked that kind of thing."

She responded, "The contract you signed with the quill—it took your fingerprint. That's how they analyze certain details about you."

Andrew's eyes widened slightly. He wasn't expecting that at all. Heck, it sounded absurd.

He exhaled a sharp breath, leaning back against the wall. "I didn't know that."

The conversation dwindled after that, the weight of their words settling over them like a heavy fog. Time passed, the fading light outside giving way to darkness.

"You going to sleep on the floor?" Andrew asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Mella blinked at him, her brows knitting together. "Do you have multiple beds?"

"No," he admitted. "But I've got plenty of clean sheets in the closet. You could take the bed, and I'd just sleep on the floor."

She shook her head firmly. "I'll sleep on the floor instead."

Andrew shrugged. "I was just trying to be hospitable."

Mella sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's not that. I just... I don't know if I'll be able to sleep anyway. I'm too stressed."

Andrew smirked faintly. "Normally, I'd agree with you. But right now, I'm fighting sleep like it's a physical battle."

She chuckled softly despite herself. 

Andrew stood and crossed the room to the closet, pulling out a folded bedsheet and handing it to her. "Here. Make yourself comfortable."

She took it with a quiet "Thanks" as he disappeared into the bathroom. The space was a peculiar mix of medieval and modern—a basin with running water stood beside an old-fashioned wooden tub. He stared at the small plumbing system that refilled a large basket of water, marveling briefly at its simplicity before rolling up his sleeves.

Splashing water over his face and arms, Andrew felt a semblance of relief, but his gaze shifted to the heap of his clothes on the floor. He frowned, realizing he didn't have any spare ones. His current outfit was worn and dirty from the day's events. 

With a sigh, he stripped off his shirt and pants, plunging them into the cool water. He scrubbed at the fabric, working out as much grime as he could, before wringing them tightly. The process left his hands sore, but the clothes, though damp, were at least cleaner than before. He draped them over his arm, cringing at the way they still clung to him as he re-dressed.

Stepping back into the room, he caught Mella's curious gaze. She pointed at him. "Why do your clothes look wet?"

Her lips quirked into the barest smile. "You're an odd one, Andrew."

"Maybe," he replied lightly, settling himself down against the wall. "But at least I'm a clean odd one."

A quiet laugh escaped her, soft and almost reluctant. It wasn't much, but it was enough to momentarily ease the tension hanging between them.

Andrew stretched his arms, stifling a yawn. "I'm taking the bed. You've got the floor, okay?"

Mella nodded, pulling the sheet over the makeshift mattress she'd made on the floor. "Yeah, I got it."

As he flopped onto the bed, the old mattress creaked under his weight. He let out a deep sigh.

Mella settled on her bedsheet, curling onto her side. "Good night, Andrew."

Andrew's voice was muffled as he buried his head into the pillow. "Try to sleep a bit. You'll need it."

In the stillness that followed, the faint sounds of their breathing became the only noise in the room.