cleverklugs:
The boy blinked back in response, brows knit together in a mix of confusion and scepticism. Did Phantom R think he was going to rat him out for using magic publicly? Was he serious about ‘the magic of music’ even though there wasn’t any such sound throughout their entire excursion?
If anybody here is crazy, it’s not Klug.
“…Isn’t that just a figure of speech? There wasn’t any music playing, but you clearly did something because even I had to use a spell just to keep up.” It hasn’t yet occurred to him that genuinely athletic people exist.
“Spell?”
Phantom R was quickly becoming aware that he might be in the presence of some kind of wizard -- or maybe a fanatic -- peeled freshly off the page of an old novel or storybook. However, raised to be nothing short of polite to his guests, he’d relent on quizzing the boy.
“Have you ever thought about how many hearts around the world are beating in time with one another?” he asked instead, smiling to himself as if in on a secret. “Or about how many car engines are running at once? The rhythm of water as it runs? The sound each footstep can make?”
He sat down on the floor by his jacket, Fondue’s head finding its way into his lap, and brushed through the fabric of the carpet like he was searching for signs of life. “Everything on earth has music to share, I think. There’s a kind of magic in that.”
