Thought Sensitive

CW: Profanity

Sam was at the opposite end of having fun. The celebratory laughter and conversations of his co-workers in various areas of the room, combined with the festive holiday music, formed a concoction that only worsened his already foul mood. It had been a long time since he had felt there was anything worth celebrating. Especially Christmas.

The Firm’s no-expense spared annual Christmas party was in full swing. The room was adorned with festive white lights and colorfully decorated large Christmas trees in the four corners of the massive ballroom. The open bar was an oasis for various beers and wines along with a menu of worldly specialty cocktails for the more exotic tastes. Some of his colleagues were helping themselves to various delights catered by one of the finest restaurants in the city. Sam wanted nothing to do with any of it. Wasted money, Sam thought. Christmas is the worst.

Standing near the entrance of the room, which for Sam served as the exit he was counting down the hours to use, he hid a scowl at the festivities taking place on the dance floor. He wondered how the sort of people that were being jovial and dancing to the atrocious music could do such a thing. Testing the stretching limits of their Kevlar lined tuxes and dresses with alcohol fueled dance moves, when they still had open contracts to fulfill, to Sam was wasted time and energy. Being only a week fresh to the Firm, Sam didn’t know any of them nor did he want to.

Sam’s Kevlar lined tux was just another necessary cost of working in the profession of being contracted to kill people for money. Normal clothes that couldn’t protect against an unseen knife left one too exposed. Even around friends and colleagues, the vulnerability left one too anxious. One of the many perks of the trade Sam thought bitterly.

Sam knew some of the party goers currently making fools of themselves on the dance floor were wishing their attire allowed more flexibility, especially for the money they had paid. There weren’t too many tailors crafting knife resistant tuxes and dresses though, so they dismissed the thoughts and enjoyed the going-as-low-as-you-can drunken grinding on each other.

Sam knew this because he could read their thoughts.

These people are so fucking shallow, Sam thought. Even for assassins. Reading thoughts had become second nature to the point that he was able to hear multiple people at once, seven being the max he was pegged at. Thoughts came as an indiscernible jumbled mass like conversations in a crowded room if he tried for more. Sam occasionally wondered if it was possible to have all access to anything he wanted in someone’s head, but only active thoughts, conscious or unconscious, came through no matter how hard he tried.

The ability left Sam bitter enough to dislike pretty much everyone. He found that most people, even sweet old ladies, were smiling through disdain and hugging their friends as they talked shit about them behind their backs. And devout church goers. Some of the lowest forms of life, as they would stab you in the back with a cross while saying a prayer to wash away the in-progress sin and make room for the next.

Feeling another bout of disgust, Sam needed a drink. He maneuvered through the various people standing or walking as he made his way to the bar, their thoughts confirming his new colleagues were mostly what he had expected; ego driven narcissists he wanted nothing to do with. Going to be great working with some of these fucks.

“Vodka soda with a lemon,” Sam said to the bartender who was wiping the bar off.

“Coming up,” the bartender said. This dude looks like he needs this Sam heard the bartender think.

Damn, am I that obvious? Sam thought.

“Thanks,” Sam said as he paid the bartender, ignoring the tip cup prominently displayed. He didn’t care about the cheap bastard thought that came from the bartender who was faking a smile as he watched Sam depart.

Sam needed a break from the noise, so he made his way to the patio. He was hit with refreshing cool air when he got outside, lightening his perma-foul mood a touch. After briefly standing to admire the city’s kaleidoscope of colors a twenty-story view provided, he leisurely made his way to a corner away from the people that were mingling about under the various heat lamps placed above scattered standing tables. The thoughts he read revealed a talk-show worth of marital affairs and alcohol induced drama ahead for a few of them.

He leaned on the cold railing and sipped his drink, enjoying the refreshment of the chilly air. He was also wondering if his watch was broken. Had time passed by that slow? Still two hours left of this crap, he thought. He could leave early but being new and the circumstances of his joining the Firm saw it best that he stayed for the whole event. The poor sap on his first contract for the Firm would still be there to kill tomorrow.

Sam was admiring the view when he heard the sudden noise of the party as the patio door opened, not bothering to see who had come out. Not until he caught a scent of perfume on a warmed breeze. A woman was standing not more than a few feet away under the heat lamp nearest Sam. How did I not hear her? Sam thought, surprised. She looked middle-aged and had a classic beauty to her, the red lipstick highlighting her olive skin and brown hair and eyes. Her dark blue dress wasn’t so tight where every curve was revealed like some of the other women were wearing.

Like every other woman he’d known in his life, he went straight to the invisible invasion of her thoughts. Only…none came. Sam admired people that could still their mind. They were a break in the monotony of never being surprised. He turned back to admire the city’s view, still focused on the woman to hear an eventual thought that would come.               

After what he thought was an abnormal lapse in thoughts, he looked over and saw she was checking her cell phone. What the hell? A thought should’ve come by now. For a text she was reading, or an email she had received. Even a check of the weather should’ve prompted a casual thought.

She looked up at him and gave him a half smile that Sam couldn’t tell was politeness or awkwardness in his befuddled state. Still not a thought. Sam’s mind screamed at him to pull his gawking stare away and compose himself. He failed to listen.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

Her talking to him jolted Sam from his trance. His mind reeled at a thousand different responses but couldn’t make his mouth work to give one. No, he was not OK. Had he lost his ability?

He picked someone randomly on the patio to use as a test–a guy listening to a woman animatedly talking. This bitch won’t stop yapping, I wonder…he heard the man think then broke the connection.

What the hell is going on? Sam thought, feeling a surge of panic.

“So…are you OK or not?” the woman asked again.

“Yeah, sorry, I was, uh, distracted,” he managed to get out.

“At what?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh, I was thinking about, uh, work,” he said, knowing he was fumbling.

“Ah…uh…OK,” she said, and went back to checking her phone.

Sam was left smiling awkwardly and turned back around to look at the city, attempting to fully compose himself at meeting someone whose thoughts he could not read. For the first time since he had his ability, he felt vulnerable.

“It’s a bit cold over there, so, do want to come over here?” she said.

Sam looked back over awkwardly, hearing himself utter a ‘sure’ as his legs went on autopilot to take him over to join her at the standing table. He was not expecting an invite, let alone her talking to him, after his performance that a seventh grader asking someone to their first dance could’ve topped.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” she asked again as Sam reached the table. His mind raced to pull out his next move, something that wasn’t going to further embarrass himself. He managed to notice her wine glass was empty.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?” Sam blurted out before answering her, hoping she’d say yes to give him an excuse to get away to pull himself together.

“Sure, please…Mr.…?” she said, extending her hand.

“Oh, right, yeah. I’m Sam,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Angela,” she said. And a glass of Merlot, please.”

“Coming right up,” Sam said. And he was off to get the order.

His mind was reeling. He couldn’t read her thoughts. An unexpected rush of joy and excitement came. Like an archaeologist that just dug up a long-lost relic, he felt he was going to burst with anticipation at the thought of talking more with Angela--who was a complete mystery. Someone he needed to work to work to get to know. A real human conversation.

The same bartender from earlier faked a smile as he poured the drinks, Sam matching her wine order. Cheap ass going to skip a tip again I bet Sam heard the bartender think. Sam put a fifty-dollar bill on the bar, telling the bartender to keep the change.

Having pulled himself from his previous stupor, Sam found himself almost sprinting to get back to her. He had dozens of questions and kept reminding himself to stay calm. Years of thought reading conversations coming easy to him, he was now in uncharted territory. He hoped habit and instinct could get him by.

He deflated as he saw a guy at the table talking with Angela. Going on offense, he sat back a few minutes at an empty table, taking time to hopefully pick up some incriminating thoughts to his advantage before he made his way back over to Angela. Got ya.

“Hey Greg, how you been man?” Sam said as he got up to the table, placing the glasses in front of himself and Angela.

The man looked at him puzzled. “Sorry…do I know you?”

“We met at your wife’s Christmas party last year?” Sam said. “My sister works with her, and she had just broken up with her boyfriend, so I went as her date. Small world, right?” Sam read the expected rush of thoughts that comes with exposing attempted adultery.

The man flushed and looked like he wanted to retreat into his jacket. “No, sorry, I don’t remember, uh, I had a few drinks that night,” the man said with an awkward laugh. Sam picked up a panicked thought of any chance of him trying to pick up a woman getting back to his wife.

“Well, I’ll be going now, have a good night” the man said to Angela, nodding to Sam as he scurried off.

I should thank you for that,” Angela said. It’s a stroke of luck you knew he was married. Saved me some possible office drama.”

“Well, I don’t really know him. And it was a lucky guess the man was married,” Sam said.

“That was an oddly specific story with that lucky guess. Do you even have a sister?” she asked, sounding impressed.

“Nope,” Sam said, very pleased with himself. “And him being a bit slow from drinks helped sell it too.”

“Well, you’re quick on your feet. And yes, Greg has a tendency to not hold his liquor well,” Angela said.

Sam flushed. “You know him?”

“I met him a few months ago at a Firm training event. Wanted to take me to dinner. He never mentioned a wife, of course,” she said.

“But I haven’t met you, before tonight.”

"I just started a week ago,” Sam said.

“Ahh, so you’re the new guy I’ve heard about. Which is funny, because Greg would’ve probably gone a different way if he knew the new guy robbed him of a night of fun.”

“So, you would’ve gone home with him, huh?” Sam asked.

“Maybe. But then you came along, so, it became a hard no,” she said smiling.

“So, you're going home with me then.” Sam said, returning her smile.

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?” she said playfully. “What if I just wanted a nice chat?”

“Who would even know?” Sam joked.

“Oh, people would know. And friendly tip. Don’t trust anyone here. They’re friendly with you tonight, until the Firm decides you’re a liability, and then tonight’s drinking buddy kills you later,” she said, switching the tone of the conversation.

“Liability huh. How does one get that status?”

“Doing anything that can put the Firm in a bad light. And being one of the last lone cowboys in the region who joined the Firm only because of a threat,” she said.

“But they still joined,” Sam said.

“True. But unless the Firm gets the warm fuzzy…” she said, letting the implication hang in the air. Sam’s mind switched to defense, the sudden pivot of the conversational tone throwing him. “Why bother with the invite and not kill them outright?” Sam asked.

“Because killing a member just looks like the Firm is housekeeping. And why are you smiling?” she asked, her eyebrows arching in curiosity.

“I have no idea if you’re telling the truth or not. And it’s wonderful”, Sam said.

“What are you even talking about?” Angela asked.

“Imagine if you knew what people would say or do--before they said or did it,” Sam said. “You know their dirt. See their rotten cores. And then you come across someone--who was a total surprise?”

“Do you always do this?” Angela asked.

“Do what?” Sam asked.

“Ask some random question, smiling like some crazy guy?”

“No. Never. You’re the first,” Sam said, beaming.

He let his smile drop just a tad. “And I know what you’re saying. If the Firm wants me gone, the Firm wants me gone. What can I do about it?”

“Are you going to stick around long enough to give them the fuzzy they need?” Angela asked. “Hypothetically, of course--if they were considering getting rid of you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. But I do want to know though, where you’re going tonight.”

“Why do you want to know where I’m going?” she asked with a playful smile.

“Because. It’s Christmas. It’s time for celebrating, isn’t it? We should celebrate.”

“I would feel like something with color had come into my gray world. Like perhaps waking up to your first white Christmas. Hearing tales of something you didn’t think was possible for you to experience, and then, you do,” Angela said.

Sam looked in awe.

“You asked me if I knew what people would say and do, then couldn’t anymore. How would I feel, you asked me.”

“Yes, I know, that’s just such an…accurate description of—”

“How you feel—right?” she asked, smiling.

“Yeah--that’s actually spot on. How do you…”

“You can’t read my thoughts,” Angela said, cutting Sam off. “I’m the first person you’ve ran across since you got the ability, I’m betting. You don’t know how to process how you feel--but you just know--it feels good. To meet someone who is a surprise.”

The surge of raw emotion that swelled up in Sam almost left him shaking. Nothing had, or could have, prepared him to hear the words from Angela. The feeling of joy was stamped out for the moment, replaced with the word that his mind was screaming at him to say.

“How,” he said, voice cracking.

“I was you—once. And…thought sensitives. We can’t read each other’s thoughts. Some people are very good though at being able to hide their thoughts, which I’m sure you’re aware of. I wondered perhaps you were able to do that when I tried to read you when we first met. Until, by chance, Greg came out and I invited him over here, to see what you would do. You didn’t disappoint.

Sam paled.

“Sam, did you think you were the only person that could do what you can do? A bit on the egotistical side, don’t you think?” she said, her playful smile returning. Sam was still frozen, mouth agape.

Angela stepped towards Sam, he flinched slightly. He looked into her eyes, trying to pick up any signs of her intentions. He had nothing. No knowledge of cues to look for, no body language to read. Her eyes were dark tunnels, and he was without a light. But he was excited.

She gently took his hand, her thumb massaging the back of it. “Welcome to the club. And yes. Let’s celebrate tonight, and through Christmas. We can talk business after. Yeah?”

Sam let everything go, ready to let himself melt into her, her intentions an afterthought. Something new was ahead and he was going with it.

“I’m not a good dancer, but I can learn quick,” Sam said.

With that, Sam let her lead the way, hanging on to her fingertips as she took them both inside.