The Booth (Short story, possible room for further development)

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    "Tell me about magic," she had said in a soft, almost gentle voice.  She didn't know it was delivered with the effective force of a punch in the gut.
   
    He'd been so careful and meticulous in his behavior, so completely normal in his actions in the hopes of not being caught. Again.  She had pierced through his carefully constructed false personality to get at the core of what was him.  Tell her about magic?  She hadn't the first idea of what she was asking about.  He leveled his eyes at her, he kept a straight face as he told her that he had no idea what she was talking about.  He lied through his teeth.
   
    It didn't do him any good.  She squinted her hazel eyes at him, reached out and gripped his hand in hers across the booth's table as much to keep him from bolting as to reassure him.  "Tell me about magic," she repeated, her voice low to keep her words from being heard by anyone but him.  He watched her in silence, his own eyes such a pale blue that they almost seemed clear.  "Please." she said, with another squeeze from her slender fingers.

    "I don't know anything about magic,"  he lied.
   
    "I can't tell you anything about it," he told the truth.

    Even he knew this wasn't going to stop her, and all he had was desperate hope.  His thin lips dipped into a frown and his expressive face begged her not to push.  Too bad, she wasn't someone to take no for an answer.  She shook her head, her curly auburn hair artfully out of place. She let her fingers entwine with his.  "Come on, Hector, you know I don't take no for an answer."

    She let her lips curl up into the calculating smile that he'd fallen so hard for just a week before.  It had been in this very bar, though it hadn't been as busy as tonight.  He'd bought her a drink and she'd wound her own spell around him.  The room smelled like good whiskey and wood panelling.  The lights were so dim that they were almost a dark orange and gave everything a warm tint.  She'd been beautiful.  She'd looked as good in the sun the next morning.

    He couldn't say the same for himself.  When he looked at himself in the mirror he didn't recognize who he was looking at for a few seconds.  He had to conciously remind himself of who he was now.  He exhaled slowly as he looked at her.  He let out a sigh, and then he made a decision.

    "I don't know anything about magic."

    She frowned, her entire expression showing her dejection.  She slipped her fingers free of his hand and stood up, getting out of the booth and grabbing her blue coat.  He swallowed, gritting his teeth in almost palpable pain, and watched her walk away from the bar and from him.

    He had known she wouldn't take no for an answer.