Lucas tugs at his shirt collar, runs his hand through his hair, taps one heel on the floor with such unthinking vigor that he ends up banging his knee hard on the underside of the desk he’s sat at.
He cusses and clutches at it, rubbing PSI into the offending spot until the pain eases. The creature coiled around his legs whines. Poor Dratini. He’s probably freaking the poor thing out. He reaches down, hand open for a comforting head rub.
“It’s fine.” He says softly, smiles. “Just a little antsy.”
The screen in front of him is still a dead black. Just looking at it puts a strange pit in his stomach; the thought of the monitor, any monitor, as anything other than a tool of wicked ambition is nearly absurd to him, but...
but if everything leading up to today is for real—if he’s not about to have some massive, elaborate and cruel prank pulled on him, like he half expects—then he may just get to see a familiar face beyond the glass pane soon.
“Have fun,” comes his chaperone’s dry voice from the other end of the room. “Remember: You gotta touch the green, not the red.”
The door clicks softly as Clair leaves him to his own devices.
A minute or so later, the screen lights up.
Green. Right.
For a moment, it doesn’t even register with Lucas that anything has happened. The face on the screen is so similar to his own that deceptively, it nearly seems like the screen’s gone dead again, his own face reflected back at him in that dark mirror.
Until his mirror image moves when he doesn’t. He feels as though his heart nearly stops. Lucas tries to say something, anything really, but nothing comes. Tightening up, his throat sabotages him. The best he can manage is a hoarse cough.
Way to make an impression.
@lietoova
