I prepared for the strike, but Cyrus barely even blinked an eye at his broken lamp. He just waved his hand and then the lamp was back in one piece. “Do you need a job?” I blurted out, my eyes locked on the once again pristine piece of furniture. “Because I might have an opening for someone of your skill set.” Cyrus almost cracked a smile then—I would swear it was there but before I could comment, the stony face returned. “I already have an important job, I don’t have time to follow you around picking up the pieces of the world you break.”
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