[ Nothing's ever truly safe. Maybe that's an uncharitable thing to think, about a stranger who's only been accommodating, who can do all this — magic, a skip and a hop and a jump away from the word miracle. But then, Rhett Abbott never did get anywhere thinking too long and hard about safe, either.

Matt's crooked smile makes Rhett huff out a breath, some sound that's maybe a laugh, maybe something friendlier; maybe something still in awe and self-conscious about that. His movements are hesitant, but they don't waver: a palm, passing through the air above and below the compass, and then closer, a rough thumb slowly tracing the edge of its shape.

It's real. It all feels very, very fucking real.

At length: ]

Probably doesn't make a lot of sense to you, what I'm about to say. [ He huffs out another sound and this one sounds wry, more crooked, similar in hue. ] But my world's never felt smaller to me than it does right now.