Page 35 of Static/Cling

How else indeed. He filed the observation away for later, because Leif had seen and pointed out to Bjorn the link to SPAM in whatever job posting had led them to apply. He knew better than anyone not everyone’s gifts set off the sparks Bjorn’s did.

He didn’t even want to think about what it meant that he’d had an actual face-to-face conversation with April—who the hell did that?

Over the rest of that week, and the one after, he told himself he walked to Tim’s with Leif every day to try and ferret out exactly what Leif could do. He wasn’t any good on the team if no one knew what skills he had.

Wrangling Bjorn was a skill. Kassian could totally see that. As was having the patience to chase wires through the walls and replace them with higher-quality, better-insulated ones, which was how he spent a good chunk of his days, rewiring each computer in its turn, then starting in on the rest of the office wiring.

But there had to be more to the little man than being a good Bjorn wrangler and a certified electrician. Kassian was determined to find out what it was.

He ignored all of Sal’s raised eyebrows and Roger’s confusion over why the office was springing for so many paid lunches.

“You do realize you’re not being subtle at all, right?” Bjorn said to him out of the blue on a Thursday as Kassian handed over his large chilli.

“I’m sorry?”

“Walking to Timmy’s with him every day. Not so much with the subtlety.”

Kassian frowned. “I don’t know why he’s being so secretive.”

Bjorn snorted. “He’s not. He’s being hella blatant. Even Roger knows he’s flirting with you.”

“He’s not—what? No. That isn’t?—”

“Come’ere.” Bjorn set his lunch on his desk and got up, motioning for Kassian to follow him to the back of the room, and into the storage room.

“What are we doing?”

“Talking.” He closed the door behind them and waved at the lamp sitting on a shelf by the door. “Please?”

Kassian turned it on. “You really would short that out?”

Bjorn narrowed his eyes and pulled in a breath. “Okay, so.” He looked around them. “That an electric pencil sharpener?”

Kassian nodded.

“Plug it in, please?”

“Why?”

“Just—Oh my God. Will you just do it?”

The hairs on the backs of Kassian’s arms stood on end.

“Please?”

The air crackled a little bit.

“Fine.” He did as asked.

Bjorn found a box of pencils and took one out. He shoved it into the sharpener, and it ground down quickly to a small stub.

“So?”

Bjorn handed him the pencil and touched a fingertip to the plastic casing of the sharpener. There was an audible snap, a spark, and the sharpener whirred for a split second, then ground to a squalling stop. Bjorn stuck another pencil in. Nothing happened.

The air around him still felt charged, though.

“I know that,” Kassian said.

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