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Who: Brian and Hunt
Where: The Wooden Nickel
When: Night, 10PMish

As expected after the space-warping, Brian was backlashing. It wasn't too bad-- it could, in fact, have been a lot worse-- but still. He was. Sadly, the backlashing meant he got lost on the way to the Wooden Nickel-- he, who had never been lost before in his life-- because his sense of direction had gone all off. He told himself to turn right, and instead he turned left; he knew he was supposed to go down one street, but instead he went down another. In a town he knew like the back of his hand, it took him three times as long to get from the diner to the dive he was meeting Hunt at. Then it took him another five minutes to get from the truck to the door and inside.

At least inside it stopped being quite so much of a problem. There were only so many wrong directions to go in. And when he started going the opposite direction from their usual spot at the bar, at least he could wave at Hunt and beckon him to follow as he headed to a booth in the back. That'd work better, anyway, seeing as while he didn't have any information on spells or the lifting thereof, he could at least test this spell-and-or-repression thing better from the back of the room than the front.

Better, though, was that from the back he couldn't see his reflection in any of the various reflective surfaces around the place. Even though he was firm in the belief, now, that he wasn't going crazy, that didn't make the weirdness any easier to handle. Even better than that, too, this time he didn't have the demon-cat with him, since Torziel didn't come within fifteen feet of the diner anymore. Not after all the blessings and anti-evil wardings he and Mya had put on them. Though he could have used Torziel's help with Hunt, if he got desperate and wanted the cat to try talking to him....

So all in all, things weren't getting off to too bad a start, as long as Hunt wasn't too pissed at him for being half an hour late. He hated being late.

Brian dropped himself down into the booth, back to the rest of the room so Hunt could have his back to the wall, with a relieved sigh. Maybe by the time he'd finished in here, the direction-thing would have worn off.

Hunt had been there for a little longer than the half hour Brian was running late, never one to be late for anything, and he'd already finished his first beer and started in on his second, making light conversation with the girl behind the bar as he tried not to show his irritation at the time passing, but checked the door regularly. He spotted Brian when he walked in and ordered another couple of beers before heading over, setting one down in front of his friend before sliding into the other side of the booth. He sat down silently, purposefully not commenting on the lateness as he got himself settled.

Brian commented, for him. "Sorry I'm late, man. Got held up at the diner." He rolled his eyes at the little lie, but hell, would Hunt believe the truth? Getting lost and turned around in Marquette? Of course he wouldn't. He snagged the beer and popped the cap with very little effort. Actually, he barely touched it with his thumb; most of it was willpower. He was going to use will for anything he could think of tonight, just to see what Hunt might notice, or not notice, and comment on. "Hope you weren't waiting too long."

Hunt checked his watch before sipping his beer. "Forty minutes, give or take," Hunt told him. Actually, it had been forty-two, but who was counting? Well, Hunt, obviously. "Work busy today then? You on this weekend?" he asked, moving on from his annoyance at being kept waiting - Brian knew that he didn't like that kind of thing, but he'd also know that Hunt wasn't going to dwell on it either.

"Well, shit." Of course Hunt had been early. He was always early. Since there wasn't really much to be done about it, though, Brian just shook his head in another apology, sipped at his own beer, and said, "Yeah, I'm on. Mya's going out of town for the trade show she does every year. I'm only working a couple hours in the morning tomorrow, I've got stuff to do in the afternoon, but I'm on all day Sunday." That was gonna be fun. At least he had all of Monday off to recover.

"Ouch - I don't know how you do it, man. I have to have my weekends, catch up on all my shit," Hunt said, completely over the lateness now as he relaxed back into the booth, tugging on the beer.

"What shit?" Brian asked with a teasing grin. "You don't do nothin', man." At least Brian had a boyfriend to keep him occupied, and people to go out with, what... did Hunt do with himself when he wasn't working or getting drunk, anyway? Besides make sure all his windows were locked a dozen times over. "But I'll be fine. Got Monday off, and hell, it's not like my job is hard, right?" He cooked things for people. The worst he got was sore in the knee from being on it too long.

Also, annoyingly, he was drawing a blank on things to do that might catch Hunt's attention. The cap thing had been subtle, but obviously not commented on; he needed something bigger. He set the beer down and pulled his hand back.

"Hey, sometimes a guy just needs to not do things," Hunt shot back, not in the least offended by the suggestion he led a dull life - they both knew that it was true, after all. Hunt just liked it that way. Mostly boring, the odd evening out - the quiet life was what had drawn him to Marquette, after all.

"All the time?" Brian prodded with a grin. "What do you do with your time, anyway? When you're not out getting raging drunk with me, or whatever." He decided to make the beer bottle slide into his hand-- that would be fairly small, but at the same time fairly noticeable. All he had to do was drop the friction with the table-top, up the kinetic energy to give it some movement, and give it a direction.

Unfortunately, the direction wound up being the opposite one from intended, and the bottle slid the proper distance... towards Hunt. The backlashing was affecting more than just how he drove and walked, apparently. Well, that was definitely more noticeable.

Hunt reached out and stopped the bottle, picking it up and pulling over a beer mat to set it on. "Slippery table," he commented, off hand, as though the slide had been caused by a spill on the tabletop or something. Nothing unusual there at all. "And I do what everyone else does - read some, try and find something vaguely worth watching in the sea of fucking dire reality TV shows that seem to be all that's on these days..."

Brian could have swallowed his tongue in surprise if he hadn't been half-expecting a complete lack of reaction for something moving across the table of its own accord. He couldn't imagine anyone being that oblivious. He even commented on the moving bottle, but somehow didn't find it remarkable enough to be surprised by. "Man, you need to get out more," Brian told Hunt, plucking the beer off the little mat and taking a swig. Okay, so one fairly obvious thing was overlooked-- what about something else?

The bottle in Hunt's hand started to heat up, and not particularly slowly, either. It might have been cruel to mess with a man's beer, maybe, but they could always get him a new one. The rise in temperature stopped right as it started getting uncomfortable to hold.

Hunt took a sip of the beer as it started to heat up and grimaced, putting the bottle down and forcing himself to swallow, pulling a face. "God, and I thought they chilled the beer here," he said, signaling the waitress over to order another one. "...And make sure it's cold this time, okay?" he added as she started to turn away. He turned back to Brian again. "Yeah, yeah - I need to get out more. Or not - you know I like the quiet life."

Watching the little exchange closely, Brian was disappointed again. It was like he wrote off weird things as something normal, somehow. Which wouldn't be so bad, except he didn't even think before he did it. He needed something more obvious, something harder to overlook. Damn, what else could he even do in a place like this? Glow again? Mute one or both of them? Make some kind of illusion? Illusions were hard, they took a lot of concentration and energy, warping light that much-- they usually smacked him pretty hard, too, with the backlash.

"So tell me how school's been," Brian said while he thought on what to try next. "How're the kids taking being back in the routine after all the shit before?"

"Oh, there's been a couple of problems, but mostly, I think everyone's just relieved to have things back to normal," Hunt told him as his replacement beer arrived. "Ran my first pop quiz today since everything settled down and I swear some of the kids looked fucking relieved about it."

"Could I get a black and tan?" Brian asked the waitress before she left, grinning amiably at her as she nodded and smiled as she headed off again. Then, back to Hunt, he added, "I don't thing even relief in normalcy could have made me appreciate a pop quiz in school. I hated those things, man." He grinned again over the neck of his bottle as he finished it off in anticipation of the new one, as much because he'd made his next decision in his attempt at shocking Hunt as at the conversation. "But then, I was never exactly the star pupil."

And with that, his hand-- and the beer bottle still in it-- went up in flames. Brian ignored them-- they weren't real, after all; fire was the easiest illusion he could make-- but he was curious if Hunt could.

"Shit!" Hunt swore, batting at Brian's arm to put out the sudden flames he saw there. "Fuck man - if you're going to take up smoking, you should learn to watch yourself with the fucking matches."

Well, he didn't ignore the illusory fires. That was something. Brian let the flames die, hoping whatever backlash hit it would wait a while before it did, and set down the now-empty bottle. "Hunt, man, I've got no matches," he pointed out, giving him a serious look and holding up two empty hands. "Or cigarettes, for that matter. I don't feel like killing myself one stick at a time."

Hunt gave his friend an unamused smile. "Yeah, right - you gonna put a rabbit out of a hat now? I never did buy into that whole 'Houdini' shit - just a load of bull from a group of guys who think they're cleverer than you because they 'know how it's done' and like to prance around on stage laughing at people," he added, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his seat, picking up his beer and sipping it. If Brian wanted to try and play it off as some dumb trip, that was his business, but he went down in Hunt's estimation because of it.

"Man, when did I say it was a Houdini thing?" Brian asked. "All I said was you assumed I was smoking and had lit a match, when you know I don't smoke and I obviously don't have any matches on me." He was tempted to light something of Hunt's on "fire", just to see what
he'd do about his hand burning but not actually burning.... Would that be too cruel? Or would it get Hunt to actually pay attention?

The black and tan came, and Brian thanked the waitress with a grin before sipping. He was determined not to wind up drunk tonight. Really, he was. Much more determined to get a better picture of what the hell was wrong with Hunt.

"Right, whatever you say man," Hunt told him, wondering if the guy though he was some kind of idiot or something, with his whole 'I don't smoke and don't have matches. If he pushed, Hunt bet Brian'd eventually proclaim that he had a lighter on him or some shit like that. Damn pendant. Whatever. I'm not rising to it, Hunt thought to himself, justifying the fact he wasn't asking his friend whether he was alright or anything because of the 'trick'. "So, what've you been up to anyway?" he asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

Because there was something Brian figured he probably ought to tell him-- though the fallout might be pretty spectacularly bad, right now, he was trying to be honest with his friends about it-- he held off on setting Hunt "on fire"... for now. His goal tonight wasn't to try and break whatever spell he had on him-- or whatever mental block the guy had, if it really was something that esoteric...-- it was just to try and gauge what all he saw, didn't see, and rationalized, so he could wait. He wanted more information, first. "Working a lot, seeing friends...." He looked down at the drink, stirring it a bit with a tiny push of willpower so that it spun in a slow circle in the glass. "Got myself a steady relationship. Kinda."

Hunt didn't even glance at the glass as he took another sip of his beer, happy to move on to the new subject. "Yeah? Steady like how steady?" he asked, genuinely interested in this turn of events. Seemed like both of them had been single for far too long. Hunt himself couldn't remember when the last time he'd had a girlfriend was.

"Steady as in, moving in tomorrow, steady," Brian said with a little wince. "Mostly for, you know, technical reasons, like having nowhere else to really go, but... still. It's been four weeks now." On the nose, he thought, or it would be the next day. It was either a Friday or a Saturday when they had their first "date" at Domino's place.

And he had also been careful so far not to actually say that Domino was a man. That little bomb would get dropped next, hopefully. He had no idea what Hunt's views were on that-- it was even weirder to tell men that he liked other men than it was women. Men could feel threatened or uncomfortable way more than a woman would in the same situation.

"Wow, that's... Bit of a whirlwind then?" Hunt chuckled. Four weeks was nothing. "You sure about this, man? I mean, after, what? a month - you can't hardly know her and you're moving her in?" he added, wondering on that a little. More than a little, if he was honest. Someone you'd know for that little time, they were basically a stranger, and to let a stranger into you home... Who to hell knew what kind of risk that was. It sent a shiver up Hunt's spine just to think about it.

"Him, actually," Brian corrected awkwardly. "I trust him, he's stuck with me through some weird, hard shit. And like I said, he's got nowhere else to go." The "getting to know him" part, well, he was working on that part. He resisted the urge to think that, besides the sexual appetite, there wasn't much else to know-- that was unfair of him to think, but he did get a bit cynical now and then when it came to Domino.

So the bomb was away. Brian took another sip of alcohol and waited for it to hit and the subsequent reaction.

Hunt's reaction was fairly subtle - his beer bottle paused for a fraction on the way to his mouth, but then he completed the move, taking a drink and taking his time swallowing. He set the bottle down on the table. "Really? What's his name?" he asked, his voice steady, quietly interested. This was definitely a revelation to him, something he'd not known previously about his friend, but he'd not got any problems perse with that kind of thing. Not his thing, but each to their own, live and let live.

"Domino," Brian said, not sure whether Hunt would remember him-- probably the only time they'd been in the same room together was the birthday party. He kept on watching, a little nervous about the lack of reaction, honestly; most people were pretty shocked and either gaped at him, choked on whatever they were drinking, or, in Mya's case, hit him. Not that Mya had really hurt him, but she'd definitely made her feelings known. "He's a good guy." Just way too young for me and prone to flirting with anything that moves. Though the fact that he seemed to be committing to this, at least, was definitely heartening.

Learning who it was got slightly more reaction, but Hunt had learned never to overreact to things in the classroom. He'd set himself up over the years as someone his students could go to if they were having problems, and that wasn't conducive to having expressive initial reactions. That and he liked the easy life - live and let live, try not to get into arguments, that kind of thing. But hearing that Brian was in a relationship with a guy was one thing - learning that the guy was (he was fairly sure) half his age was another. "You sure about this, man?" he asked, not really knowing how to ask whether Brian was sure that he wasn't just being taken for a ride.

"Not really," Brian answered, but his voice was light despite the answer being true. "Anything could happen in the long run and I probably won't be surprised. But it feels... okay. This is pretty much the only thing I haven't been weird, worried, or freaked out about in weeks. And after what he's been through for me, I figure he's due a little trust." He was certainly trying, himself.

Hunt was frowning, just a touch, as he played with the neck of his bottle a little. "I don't want to put a downer on things, but... The guy looked hardly older than one of my students, and you've not known him long and..." Yeah, there was no nice way to point out the May to September problems, or to just ask what the young man saw in an older guy. And then there was the possibility that really? he might just not want to know. That was always a distinct possibility. "Just - be careful, alright, Brian? Seriously. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

"I'm being careful," Brian promised. "I'm going into this eyes open, promise you that." He knew perfectly well all the things Hunt was telling him-- even had them reminded to him when he told Ash. Why was it that the men he knew kept reminding him of the possible problems, and the women seemed to just be egging him on? Weird. "I know Mya trusts him, that's a big point in his favor. And there's still the 'nowhere else to go' thing. He didn't move in with me, and he'd be living in the park." Which was, quite honestly, the biggest reason he'd given in to the impulse.

"That's part of why I'm telling you to be careful, man," Hunt told him, taking a sip of his beer. "if it all goes to hell, or just doesn't really work out... You really gonna be able to kick him out if he plays that whole 'you're making me homeless' card? That's a hell of a lot of pressure, you know. Damn, even if it's not a whole relationship issue, if it's just that you and he can't live-live together. You'll be stuck with him, because he's got nowhere else to go. Don't wanna be harsh or anything, just... Yeah."

Somehow, Brian had trouble seeing Domino pull that particular line. He had a feeling the werecat would be perfectly happy living in the park, inconvenient as it was. "You probably don't realize I've been half-living with him for a couple weeks now," Brian chuckled, remembering the several days in a row Domino stayed over after the thing with Marlowe. "He's been over more than he's not been over. I haven't seen any nasty habits or gotten any bad vibes yet." Though admittedly, he supposed Domino could have been trying to hide them, he just didn't know if the guy thought that far ahead. Especially since in the beginning he hadn't assumed the fling was more than a fling. "It'll be okay, man," Brian finished, reaching over the table to clap Hunt's shoulder and smiling. "And if it's not, I'm a big boy, I'll be okay."

"Yeah, I hope so - can't blame me for worrying about a friend though, can you? You know me, I'm an old woman at times," Hunt chuckled, finishing off his ber and setting the bottle on the table.

"Yeah, sometimes," Brian agreed, watching Hunt a little more closely now. The Domino subject was pretty much over, and Brian didn't really want to push the "so you're still okay with me" angle-- he'd just assume yes unless things changed in the way Hunt treated him. He still wanted to see what was more interested, really, in changing the subject back to figuring out the spell-and-or-repression thing... like he was still wondering would happen if he set the illusory fire on him. Cruel or not, whether Hunt could or would accept that he appeared to be burning even though he wasn't-- he just didn't want the whole bar freaking out. Decisions, decisions. And lots of workings involved, if he did try it.

Nothing ventured, though, nothing gained. He was so going to backlash the minute he left the bar, if not sooner, and this would have to be the last thing he did to test anything tonight. A twist of thought and willpower made their booth in the back muted and pretty much invisible, so no one else would freak out, first. Then, rather than Hunt himself, he set the illusory flames on Hunt's beer bottle, keeping his hands both in plain sight and away from the bottle. There, maybe that would get Hunt's attention-- especially when nothing he did could make it go out.

The bottle went up in flames just as Hunt let go of it - and the man panicked, knocking it off the table and onto the floor, kicking it away from himself and under another table. He went scrambling after it, not wanting anyone else to get hurt by the flames - much to the horror of the couple on the next table as they had first a burning bottle and then a fully grown man disappear between their legs.

The little experiment turned into a disaster, and a very noticeable disaster, at that-- and yet all Brian found he wanted to do was laugh. Put his head down on his arms and laugh until he couldn't breathe. Oh god, what a mess. The flames disappeared the moment Brian couldn't see
the bottle any more-- illusions were too tricky to hold without that kind of concentration-- and he leaned over out of the booth in an attempt to see where exactly Hunt had gone. "Shit, man, everything okay?"

Except now the backlash had hit, and light refused to acknowledge his existence after he'd fucked with it three times now. It went straight through him, oblivious and unaware he was invisible now, as he tried to talk.

Hunt stopped as his hand closed around the non-burning and cool bottle and he looked around for the other. It must have kept on rolling - there was no other explanation. He crawled out from beneath the table, muttering apologies to the couple and returned to the table, surprised to see Brian gone. He'd - he was sure that he'd heard the guy talking, but maybe he'd decided to go to the bathroom or something. Hunt turned from the table, flagging down a waitress and ordering himself another beer.

Hunt's puzzled expression was Brian's first clue in that something wasn't right. "Hunt, man, I'm right--" He broke off when he raised a hand to try and get Hunt's attention, only to be unable to see said hand. "Shit." Well, if he really wanted to test Hunt's perception, this would be an interesting way to go about it. Brian sighed, settling back in his seat and draining a good half the remaining B&T in one go, and waited for Hunt to sit again.

Drink ordered, Hunt sat back down at the table to await his friend's return, looking around the place, fingers drumming absently on the tabletop. He caught the eye of a girl across the room and gave her a small smile, but nothing else and he continued to wander his gaze around.

"Hunt," Brian tried first, just talking and seeing if Hunt would even register it.

Hunt turned, looking straight past where he couldn't see his friend as if he'd just been called from across the room, searching for whoever had called his name.

"Right in front of you, man," Brian prodded, having a feeling this would go badly, but he had to at least try, right? "I know you can't see me. I know it's weird-- but I'm right here. Seriously." He waved a hand in Hunt's face-- not that it did any good, but it was instinctive, or... something.

Hunt frowned, hearing Brian's voice, but he couldn't see him anywhere. He stood up, just as the waitress arrived with his drink, which stopped him for a moment. He exchanged a few words with her, tipped her for his beer and then remembered Brian, going off in search of him - he couldn't be far. After all, he'd just called for him...

Okay, so Hunt apparently heard something, just not what exactly was said. That the guy he was looking for was right in front of him, on the other side of the booth.

Sighing, Brian got up to follow. Apparently this time one backlash at a time was enough punishment, because he didn't wind up wandering in the opposite direction this time. "Wonder how long this'll last," he mused aloud, taking the rest of his B&T with him and leaving the
payment behind on the table. At least the glass vanished when picked up, and the money appeared when it left his hand. Invisible money. What a pointless concept. "You're not going to find me," he added for Hunt's benefit, whether or not the man would register it.

Hunt did actually turn in the direction of Brian's voice, but looked straight past him, looking as confused as ever - it was quite clear, however, that he could hear his friend. He just couldn't connect the noise with the location and he remained convinced that Brian just just out of sight. So much so that he left the booth and went wandering, looking for his friend.

Being invisible really wasn't all it was cracked up to be, especially in a crowded bar. Brian had to hover close behind Hunt, very nearly stepping on the backs of his shoes and certainly breathing down his neck-- or back, more accurately, given Hunt was a good bit taller than Brian-- just to keep from running into people who were oblivious to his presence. "This is gonna get old, fast," he muttered under his breath. "Outside, Hunt, get outside before I make more people think they're insane."

The one good thing about light not liking you was the lack of a reflection. And, better, the lack of a reflection to stare at him and to haunt him with flickers of darkness just out of the corner of his eye. Just then, though, he'd rather have taken that.

Hunt showed no sign of having actually heard Brian's mutter from behind him, but yet he still headed for the exit, scanning the room all the time for his friend. He stopped half way there, though, because checking the bathrooms first was more sensible and rational. He detoured there, but there was, of course, no Brian. Only then did he finally head out into the night, stopping just outside the doors in the glow of the light from the bar sign, looking around.

While Hunt detoured, Brian backtracked to find a napkin and steal a pen from one of the waiters. He'd give it back in a moment. He wrote out a quick note on the napkin, since this invisibility would take it's own sweet time going away, he was sure, and Hunt wasn't really making it easy to communicate with him. Sticking around here would probably just be a waste of time. Hunt-- I'm sorry. I had to go. I'm going to have a really busy weekend, but I'll call you Monday and we'll talk. Maybe by then he'd be lucky enough to have heard back from Olivia or Manhattan on the spell thing.

Hunt headed back for the door again just as Brian had tucked the pen back into the waiter's apron pocket-- making said waiter turn around with a frown of surprise to see nobody at all-- and he jogged out after him. Well, he jogged about six steps before the knee decided he shouldn't do that and he slowed to a walk. "Hunt," he called from the door, limping out after him. Now, how to get the note to him... he looked for a convenient pocket. Though he supposed he could just slap it on the guy's chest, and hope he didn't toss it away, thinking it was trash. He wasn't too worried about Hunt being mad at him. Given the strange circumstances of his disappearance, Brian was reasonably sure he'd forget about it, rationalize it, or remember it differently.

Hunt turned around, sure that he heard Brian calling from the doorway - maybe he'd just walked straight past him or something. "Brian?" he called, looking round, really kinda confused right now.

"Exactly," Brian said with a wry grin his friend... couldn't see. He reached out to take Hunt's hand and put the napkin in it, if he managed that much. "For you. Sorry things turned into a bit of a mess."

Hunt turned again, looking around himself for his friend. He could here him, but the bastard wasn't anywhere in sight. "Brian?" he called, loudly, feeling something brush against his hand - probably the wind or something. He kept turning, moving out of the way. "Brian?"

"You're not making this any easier, man," Brian grumbled, grabbing at the front of his shirt so he'd hold still. "Just... stop moving, and read this." He finally shoved the napkin into Hunt's empty palm, and hoped he kept it rather than letting it fall away. If he didn't, well, he'd just get manhandled by someone he couldn't see. "Read," he repeated.

Hunt, being Hunt, didn't experience what just happened in the way that it actually happened. Instead, his mind rationalised it - for Hunt, the wind had picked up, blowing things around, pummelling at his shirt. He felt the white napkin brush against his hand and reached out automatically to pluck it from the air. It was one hell of a coincidence, he realised as he looked at the napkin, on the verge of discarding it when he saw there was something, a note from his friend, written on it. He looked around again, wondering why Brian hadn't just told him himself. But if his friend had to go, he had to go. Still, it was an incredibly puzzled Hunt who shrugged and headed off down the road for home.

Brian sighed with relief when Hunt actually read the note, and watched him walk off. "Well, at least he doesn't look pissed at me," he muttered, then made his own way to his truck. No way he was teleporting home, now. He would just have to hope that nobody tried to stop the car that was driving itself.

He was halfway home when the backlash let up, and he just had to laugh. What a way to ruin a night.