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"I'm a subtle arts major, sophomore year."

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"Subtle arts?" he asks, because the only subtle art he's ever heard of is the art of cheating at cards without getting your teeth knocked in.

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"Maybe you call them psionics or something? Not a technical term, but whatever. Oh, and I am not reading your mind, I don't have that problem."

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"Oh! Psionics! Yes, I know what those are. Okay. Thanks for not reading my mind, I appreciate it." He is good enough at controlling himself that he doesn't scoot away, and - well. He's fought mindflayers. Mindflayers. Walked into their base and then said, 'Why no I do not want to give you the magic thing you want instead you can go straight to hell' instead of not doing a stupid crazy suicidal thing like that. A psionic in college is kind of - not as scary, in comparison.

(Though he prods at the mental techniques The Seer walked him through for resisting mind tampering. Up they go. Safety.)

"Is it a specialty school or something?"
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"No, there's non-subtle-artists there too."

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"Huh. Cool. Good luck with it." Pause. "... I technically never graduated from my school, did I, huh."

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"Couldn't tell you."

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Snort. "Be a bit creeped out if you could."

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"I don't blame you. But you are not a volunteer practice subject, so."

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He considers.

"I don't mind being a volunteer practice subject if you need the practice, I could use the practice on the defensive side too. Keep the mindflayers on their toes if I have to fight more of them."
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"That's not usually the kind of practice I'm assigned, but I guess it probably wouldn't hurt? As long as this is, like, shield defense and not offense-is-the-best defense."

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"Shield defense. I'm not trained in, uh, subtle arts offensively. Just defense. A bit shoddily, too, we were kind of in a rush. And I wouldn't stab you or anything."

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"Right then. What do you want me to try to do?"

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"Uhh. I'm not sure. What can you do?"

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"Read surface thoughts, read memories, knock you unconscious, it gets a little more not-so-much-for-practicing from there?"

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"Surface thoughts works. And yeah, let's not go with not-so-much-for-practicing."

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"Sure. And I will back off if you think that you wish you had not just thought a thing."

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"Thank you for not being terrible. Ready when you are. ... Though the, uh, Bar might want us to move or something."

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None of the described falls definitively under establishment violence rules apart from unconsciousness.

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"Okay. Making sure." Pause. "The bar's sentient and is the bartender, by the way. And can conjure drinks and books and food."

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"Yes, I noticed."

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"Ah, right. That makes sense."

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"Yep. Say when."

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"When."

He thinks slippery thoughts.

This makes him actually really tricky to read.
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"Yeah, this is pretty hard," she comments.
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