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[ Whatever Peter was anticipating being asked, it definitely isn't this. Immediately, his head lifts from where he was gazing all melancholy at a desktop, eyes widening in surprise. ]

I— I can't do magic.

[ Even just saying the word feels strange, somehow. Something foreign and.... not bad, he doesn't want to say it's bad, because he's been around Luna's magic before and she's not bad. Absolutely not.

...But he's afraid of magic, not-so-deep-down, and that fear extends to even addressing it as reality. He swallows, looking all nervous again like he might fall over any second. ]

....But you can.

[ It's not said like an accusation, just... an awareness, like he's just putting the information out there. He remembers. Quentin had done something really fucking powerful using just his hands. ]

[ Quentin's brows shoot up again, because yeah, he thinks that's a bit of bullshit--he'd felt it, the power, the surge, and he thinks if he had his wits about him he might have even reached Alice's level in terms of pure power--but he decides not to comment on it based on the fact that it looks like Peter is going to probably pass out. ]

Yeah. I'm a magician--less rabbit out of a hat, more... [ He nods pointedly. You know what you saw, Peter. He looks like he's about to say something before he decides against it, and after a pretty affected sigh, he places both hands on the desk pointedly. ]

Okay--I'm going to lose my mind if I stay in this classroom any longer than I have to. You like coffee?

[ Peter glances back at his teacher uncertainly; his memories of that.... strange, horrible event are so skewed and weirdly painful to try and think back on. It's like trying to read words and suddenly a bright light flashes; he squints in attempt to make out what the letters say, but the light forces his eyelids shut, makes his eyes water.

It's like looking back at something he shouldn't be able to. Something that isn't meant for him.

But he's glad when Quentin lets that drop — whether it's only temporarily or not — blinking at what he says next. Magician. ...Magic. It's unnerving, but the fact Quentin just.. comes out and says it so bluntly makes it slightly less unnerving. Like it's not some dark secret Peter has to try and uncover. ]

Oh. Yeah, coffee's good.

[ The offer surprises him, but not in an unpleasant way. Being in classrooms makes Peter weirdly on edge lately, too. Bad memories, bad... energy or something. He slips his hands into the front pockets of his hoodie, body language slightly less tense, adding: ] I'll just, uh... follow you?

Uh-huh.

[ Peter dresses like him--he tends not to wear hoodies too much anymore, but he'd hid behind nondescript shirts and a black hoodie for as long as he can remember. It wasn't until the Tale of the Seven Keys that he started gradually shifting his clothing choice, and even then, he's pretty sure that's just because of circumstance. It's nice, to glance over and see an awkward kid like him dressed in the same fashion he did. Weird, but nice. Selfishly, it's good to know being a nervous, depressed mess never really leaves. Sucks for Peter, though. He's already on Quentin's list of people to regularily check in with already.

He's gathering his things, shoving quizzes loosely into a binder and putting that in his messenger bag. After that it's a short walk to the closet cafe, and Quentin's unafraid to break the silence once they head over. ]

There's a few other magicians here, from where I am. If we get together, we can do cooperative magic--basically create, uh, a sort of loop and feed off of each other's innate power to get a concentrated, more powerful version of a normal spell, or do more complicated ones. More hands mean more magic.

[ He's holding the door open for him once they reach the little mom-and-pop shop where Quentin's a regular. ]

I know you said you can't do magic, but whatever happened back on the ship... it was a pretty powerful burst. Like, Alice Quinn levels, and she's one of the strongest people I know. It's something.

[ Peter's unsure what to make of any of this — he wasn't really planning past an apology to Quentin for what happened — but he's just going to obediently follow along, trailing after his teacher, staying quiet. It's not a long walk, though of course Peter manages to slip into a bit of a daze regardless; he blinks thickly a couple of times when the older man starts speaking again, turning to look at him. Oh, they've in the coffee shop now... When'd that happen? Wake up, Peter.

Quentin talking about the magic again does help wake him up, the teen's eyes widening a little when he once again mentions magicians. It's a term Peter's familiar with, of course; the concept isn't exactly new even where he comes from. But it's... trickery, sleight-of-hand, people cutting ladies in half with a saw and you gasp in shock even though you watched "Breaking the Magician's Code: Magic's Biggest Secrets Finally Revealed" and saw the trick explained. ]

Wait... Alice. You know Alice?

[ Out of all of this information that's been presented to him, Peter's mind clings to the one thing that's familiar — the name of someone he doesn't know very well but has... felt, in his mind, through Luna Lovegood. Courtesy of all those threads last month. He's spoken with Alice Quinn himself since then, and.. she'd mentioned magicians. She'd even shown him a little bit of magic. ]

So you're the same.. type. Of magician. You do the same magic? ...Are you from the same world as her? Are you from Earth?

[ Sorry Quentin, he's not even intentionally trying to distract the topic away from himself; he just.. has to make sense of things, and magic's still a really new concept to him. It's hard to believe it just... exists, really exists, and quite possibly existed in his world, too. He hasn't forgotten the spell words, the... weird shit he'd seen in his attic. It was some kind of magic, wasn't it. ]

[ He's just sort of used to name dropping--their group is eclectic, but everyone knows everyone, and sometimes it just doesn't occur to him that someone might not know who the fuck he's talking about.

Except for the fact that Peter seems awestruck that Quentin knows Alice. He's not surprised--Alice is competent and smart, and powerful, and Quentin is none of these things. He does smile faintly. ]

Yeah, we used to d--uh, we went to the same grad school for this sort of stuff, lived in the same house--it's in New York.

[ So yes, and yes. After paying for whatever Peter wants, Quentin nestles in a small corner in the cozy little cafe with a large black coffee, and far too much biscotti. He feels like there's a weight off of his shoulders--as soon as they're out of the school, he feels less like a teacher and more like he can just have a conversation with a fellow sleeper.

Also the fact that he's about to eat like 3 sticks of hard as shit almond biscuits. ]

[ Oh, Peter caught that d—, but he doesn't say anything to it, just gently surprised by the knowledge that Alice and Quentin know each other, came from the same world. There have been others here like that, little groups of people from the same place, but this one involves... magicians, and it's both strange and interesting to think about. His eyes are constantly being opened more and more to things he never could have imagined to be true before this place.

As for his own order, it's a simple plain latte and then he's slipping into a seat across from the older man, more focused now. Getting away from the classroom seems to help him, too — and the ambiance here is nice, relaxing. There's a moment or two in which he's gazing into his cup, waiting for it to cool a little, before Peter finally approaches the subject directly. ]

I can't do magic. At least, I never have before. Whatever happened, I don't... even know how it happened. I wasn't—

[ He takes a slow breath. Just a mere month ago he wouldn't have been able to say what he's about to say, certainly not to someone he barely knows. Now? Peter's.... more open to the idea. Still incredibly nervous, still keeping some necessary secrets and carefully layering his words. But if Quentin knows about magic... maybe he can offer some insight. Maybe he can even help him. ]

I wasn't really myself then. [ His fingers slowly, but nervously, dance against the sides of his cup. ]

There's something else inside me. Some... thing. [ He can't even say he thinks there is. Peter... knows there is, now. Pretending won't do any good; Quentin saw it for himself, saw something, some kind of... power or energy or.. whatever that was. ]

......It's never done anything like that before. So I don't know why— or how— it did it then.

That's sort of what I figured.[ Quentin tries to keep his smile light, mostly so as not to worry the other. He seems skittish enough already--not everyone has the same experience of loving magic before learning it exists. Plus, if he's right, it's less 'magic is real and you've been actually making cards disappear in your tricks' and more of a sinister introduction. ]

Cooperative magic is something we can do -- usually for big spells, complicated ones -- and sometimes you just need more than two hands to cast something. I'm assuming whatever it is that's inside you picked up on that, our internal circumstances were right and somehow aligned, and it just worked.

[ He's dunking the biscotti into his coffee as he talks. ]

The meta-math should have theoretically made it impossible, unless whatever it is you've got is one hell of a power source. Is it--it's possession, right?

[ He figures if he keeps his tone conversational, Peter will at least be a little at ease. ]

[ His most direct experience with magic so far has been through Luna — seeing her cast spells, how she says strange words and literally conjures this energy up. He'd seen it used... violently; she'd helped protect him from the undead version of his grandmother. He'd also seen it used to assist, to help make things better. She'd used her magic to take care of him. Comfort him.

Then there was Quentin on the ship, and Peter does remember how... intense that surge had been. How frightening. And apparently he'd been... a part of that, somehow. He's frowning deeply as he listens, stomach twisting unpleasantly at the thought of the thing inside him being capable of..... that.

Then there's the p-word, the one Peter's only recently been able to voice, himself. He knows about it because of Ben, who's seen things like this and dealt with them. ....Demons. Possession. But there's so much Peter still doesn't know. ]

It— Yeah. Yeah, it's— that.

[ He's kind of stunned at how laid-back Quentin is with approaching it, at least on the surface. Peter doesn't know how much he should or shouldn't say, and he's fidgeting again, removing his hands from his coffee cup and sliding them down into his lap instead, looking a little green around the gills, like he's nauseated, dizzy. ]

For awhile, I thought I was going crazy. That everything was just... in my head. Or one big, bad dream.

...But it's something... alive? It's fucking alive.

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