And then he tried to stab you?” said President Marcus the next morning, sitting across from me at the breakfast table. “But you don’t have any stab wounds on you …”
“It was a trick, sir,” I said. “An illusion. Joey—Gentleman can conjure realistic illusions with his powers. The Gentleman I fought last night wasn’t even real.”
“I recall reading about Gentleman in Sir Charles’ report on Parasite,” said President Marcus as he cut into his sausage patty with his fork and knife cleanly and swiftly. Popping the bit of greasy patty in his mouth, President Marcus chewed and swallowed before saying, “But I hadn’t really grasped just how powerful his illusions were until you told me just now.”
I nodded and scratched behind the ears of Jeffry the kitten, who had chosen to sleep in my lap this morn
