My eyes popped open.

Across my arms, a soft-edged undulation of the white-gold energy rose, looking very much like fire. In between my fingers, a swirling mass of the same, looking almost like a solid object. But in the same moment, the lapse in concentration disturbed the flow of everything, resulting in the catastrophic breakdown of the pool of power I'd concentrated. It flew apart, lashing into my hands and pushing a wave of pressure out. I tumbled off the bed, feeling like I'd been shoved by a giant hand.

My hands hurt, my forearms hurt. My shoulders felt like they'd almost came out of their sockets. To add insult to injury, I'd smacked my head decently well on the floor.

"Liam," I said, looking up at the culprit, "When someone's door is closed, you can't just burst in like that."

"But I saved you from the fire," He replied, looking confused. I could totally get why it'd look like I was on fire from behind, what with the flickering golden lights. Combined with the red wallpapering of my room, it undoubtedly gave me strong impression. Better than if he'd have seen the front view, that'd be much harder to explain.

"That you did," I said, "But I didn't need saving. I was just playing with reflections of the sunlight. Besides that, why did you come in here in the first place? It's not like you heard me screaming, 'Save me Liam!'" The last part I did in my best "damsel in distress" play-voice.

He concentrated pretty hard, trying to think of a reason, and apparently failed. "I was bored," he finally admitted.

"I do appreciate the honesty, but you're gonna be in trouble one of these days if you keep on busting into girl's rooms without permission."

In response, Liam stuck his tongue out. Clearly his boredom meant more than my right to privacy in my own room, I was thinking of other ways to persuade him when I heard another voice call out.

"You'll get worse if I catch you."

Gran was walking past on her way through the hall. Liam went white as a sheet.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "See, trouble!" I said.

He ran away.

"Thanks, Gran," I said, standing up and brushing myself off.

"He'll get there - your dad was worse. He broke into the bathroom so often I started keeping the old toilet paper rolls behind for anti-annoyance ammunition." Gran laughed, before looking sad. "I do miss him… he was a good man, same as his father."

"I've got a wonderful family," I said, getting my hug. "'Best of the best', as Grandpa used to say."

Gran held a hand around my forearm, keeping me still for a moment. "Don't forget you're part of that," she said solemnly. "We've lost enough good people for you to be taking unnecessary risks, my dear. I don't know what you're up to, but you come back in one piece, got it?"

"Yes ma'am. I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask," Gran replied, looking down the hallway towards mom's room. "I know it doesn't always work out."

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I was still groggy when I got into work the next day. Having a single day off each week was rough. Still beat those who didn't get any, though. I considered myself lucky in that department. I'd been nursing a hot tea I'd gotten at a street vendor on the way in. They could be super hit or miss, but in this case I had it on good authority from István that this one made 'stellar tea' and that 'I really should try some'.

So I was really trying some. He was not wrong. It was strong and spicy, the kind of thing that knocked the clogs out of your nose and throat. The warmth helped, and by the time I got to my desk, I was mostly a human.

Only, my desk wasn't there - and in its place sat a young man, looking entirely bewildered to see me staring at him in confusion before it clicked, and I spun on my heel and walked out with my tea, having not said a word the entire time.

Breaking into what was almost a light jog, I did my best not to spill my warm refreshment as I practically leapt up the stairs.

How was it that turning into a bird got me less flustered than walking into an office that was no longer mine? I'd totally forgotten about my promotion. That dude must have been so confused, just some crazy lady walking in, sniffing at her tea, then walking back out like the bathroom needed immediate consoling.

I was still thinking through the ways in which István and Viktor were totally out of their minds for promoting a moron like me to be around sensitive lab equipment when I walked into my actual workspace, next to István's desk. He was already there, and noticed my drink.

"Ah, I see that you finally checked it out," he said, gesturing a hand at the tea. "How is it?"

"Excellent, thank you for the suggestion," I replied. "Also makes a very convenient method for covering your face when you walk into the wrong office after getting promoted." I took an exaggerated sip, holding my whole face behind the mug in a pantomime.

István roared with laughter - I hadn't thought that it was that funny. I almost felt a little hurt.

The man had tears in his eyes when he finally calmed down. "I did the exact same thing once." He said, removing his round-rimmed glasses to clean them.

Ahhh, that explains it, I thought. We did seem like the same kind of awkward, after all.

I took another sip of my tea. It really was good, the more I drank it the more I liked it it. It was one of those 'slow-burn' tastes that your head had to take the time to wrap itself around. "Anything interesting on the table today?"

"Funny you should ask," he said, pointing a finger behind me.

I turned to look, and there was several huge crates. They looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't figure out why. "Woah."

"'Woah', indeed." He took out a clipboard that had what looked like a ream of paper on it. "I was told that a building not too far from here collapsed, but there was no owner of record. Apparently it was just packed stem to stern with Artifacts. We're the only outfit around big enough to handle this many, so we got stuck with all this."

Ah, yeah, that'd make sense. These were crates from after I assisted in the rapid unplanned disassembly of the extractor.

"So who assigned this to us?" I asked, hoping I came across as more inquisitive than concerned.

"Unsurprisingly, there are people who actually enforce rules when it comes to the sale of Artifacts," István explained, "They might not care if you or I get killed walking out the front door, but they definitely care if one of these Artifacts doesn't make it to their patrons. So the auction houses we generally sell to have a group that works across the houses, the 'Relic Bourse'. No idea where they got that silly name. They have their own muscle, called the Custodial Protection Service. Honestly the name makes them sound a lot more organized and a lot less drug-addicted than they tend to be, in my experience."

"CPS," I replied, "Sounds like something that should be protecting kids."

"No money in keeping kids safe…" István replied, his voice thick with sarcasm. It was clear he didn't agree with it either. He held out the clipboard, "I suppose we should get going on all this before John gets a free minute and writes me up for saying uncomfortable facts about reality."

"John?"

"He is the one who writes up all the business paperwork… Probably did your promotion stuff. John Doe - it is a weird name, if you ask me."

"Yeah, sounds like he made it up or something," I replied.

I liked 'not-HR-guy' better. It was more memorable.

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