“You’re back.”

I nodded. “And I’m about to ask you to do something horribly dishonest and mildly illegal.”

Fitz grinned a bit. “As long as it’s not…”

“I’m taken,” I quipped. “Got a perfectly good girlfriend.”

He managed, to his credit, not to shudder. “Alright.”

“The mildly illegal part is this.” I pulled out the bottle.
“Wine?”

“Mead. It’s got a spell on it that breaks illusions.”

“And you want me to sneak it to my clients.” He peered at the label. Which just said fruit mead.

I nodded.
“And the mildly illegal part is turning a blind eye to you having booze.”

I shrugged a bit. “It’s not for me.”

He turned the bottle in his hands. “I should maybe take a sip myself.”

I nodded. “I think we got you free of influence, but it might help, yeah. Can you handle this?”

“Will it make them…”

“It should…” I sighed. “It should make them realize it wasn’t Mike they saw. But I’m not sure how many layers. It might be…uh…”

“Unpleasant?”

I nodded. “But most people don’t remember supernatural stuff, or rationalize it away.”

“Why am I not rationalizing it away, then?” He looked at me, thoughtfully.

“Not sure. Maybe you have a little bit of locked away talent for magic somewhere.”

“My parents did their best to stamp every bit of imagination out of me. I remember them telling me I wasn’t allowed to pretend a hotwheels car was an ambulance.”

I rolled my eyes. “So, if you did have something, it got stomped on when you were a kid and you not only never did anything with it but…became a lawyer.” I ducked.

He pretended to whap me with the hand not holding the bottle. I decided I liked him despite everything.

“So, just let it out. The creativity.” That was probably the secret. Imagination.

Was I imaginary? I didn’t think so…but I realized I couldn’t ever be entirely sure.

“I’ll try. And I’ll see what I can do with this.”

Would it be enough? I supposed I’d know before too long.