"What the fuck."

"I dunno. Does he have anything I want? I mean, he's just a freshman."

"I mean, you can always ask for his mana. You ready? Watch, look at this, just put out your hand and he'll give it to you." Hand out, for demonstration.

"Wait, stop, I have free will, I'm a human, I have human rights--"

"Come on, George, it's fun."

"Hm." George considers for a moment, then shrugs and sticks his hand out.

"Now tell him to give you his mana."

"Give me your mana." George's voice never wavers from its normal tone of profound indifference.

Clay cheers and claps George on the shoulder.

And then, when Tommy just looks at them mutely, his arm starts to rise.

"Fuck you."

...Tommy's holding his mana storage.

Clay grabs his wrist and squeezes, hard; when that doesn't work, he starts to bend it, not quite to the point of breaking it but enough that the threat is clear.

...Tommy drops his mana storage.

And Clay catches it, letting Tommy's wrist go. "Thank you. Now give him your mana."

.........................

...Tommy puts his hand in George's and gives him his mana.

"See? Pretty cool, right?"

"Now I don't have any mana storage."

"You can make more, I'll give you stuff for it."

....

"But we already did that."

Shrug. Clay angles his body towards George and away from Tommy. "Come on, it was funny."

"Eh. I guess."

"I probably shouldn't make jokes about killing your family, should I."

"It'd be kind of weird, yeah."

"Out of pocket, as the New Yorkans say. Are you--you seem like the type of guy who's from New York."

"I'm not, I'm from Tampa."

"Yeah, no. People can move, Clay. I think you are."