The fireball in Alice's hands swelled until it buzzed with unstable heat, the light painting her golden eyes a molten red.
But instead of hurling it right away, she held it there, steady and simmering.
Her smile returned, sharp and deliberate. "You don't flinch, do you? Most people panic when they see me charge this much power. You just… stare."
The masked figure's head tilted slightly, that blank white expression betraying nothing.
[Why would I panic? Fire only scares those who've never walked through it.]
Her laugh came quick, sharp, like glass breaking. "Ha! You talk like you've done it before. Walked through fire, I mean. But if that were true, you'd be covered in burns, not hiding behind a mask."
[Or perhaps the mask is the burn.]
That answer made her pause—just for a heartbeat. Then her grin widened. "Now you're just being poetic. Careful, or I'll start thinking you're trying to impress me."
[And what if I am?]
