Kylie, undercover agent - Dinner with a room with reality warpers

A/N: This story is acting as hook and to get me to finally finish the rest of it as it's been in development hell for months. Hollywood's character and powers inspired by Idontknow12345's "[Amy, stressed student - QnA](https://chyoa.com/chapter/Amy%2C-stressed-student---QnA.1820993)". Credit for the power concept goes to them.

***

It was always smart to ground yourself when things got strange, to fix on what you could verify.

I ran my fingers over the silk of my blue evening dress. Still elegant. Even better, the weight of the stun gun in my purse pressed against my hip, steadying.

The restaurant, Palate, hummed with its warm light and low conversation, soft music and polished silverware, expensive suits and overpriced food.

Ryan, Miles, and Carmen drifted through the dining room, discreetly placing the sensors near the walls for Katherine to read. Ryan hugged the left wall past the raised stage, while Miles worked the right flank near the bar.

Looking at the far booth, Coat Guy was still watching my table, leaning back like he had front-row seats to my show. Katherine’s sensor report would have to tell me what he was.

“He’s not blinking, Kylie,” Ryan murmured. “Seems like a better tell than your ‘date’s’ introduction.”

Let him watch. I shifted, preparing to pull my dress down and flash him- Wait, no. What a weird thought.

Instead I let the strap slide down my shoulder, enough to give him the curve of my collarbone. Anyway, I’d rather he looked at me, even if he looked disappointed for some reason, than at Ryan setting a sensor behind the man. Still, Ryan was right. His stare was too open.

Putting Coat Guy on hold, that left the man across from me who had introduced himself as Hollywood. For a “self-absorbed arsehole,” I’d braced myself for a one-sided conversation. Instead, he’d gone quiet, spearing the arugula as if it had offended him. And yet that smirk stayed glued to his face.

Why approach me if you have nothing to say? “You know, most people buy me a drink before they give me the silent treatment. I didn’t peg you for the shy type… especially not after that introduction.”

“Still trying to figure it out,” he admitted with his strong American accent. The British accent from his introduction was nowhere to be found. “That shit I said earlier… Christ. Not exactly my smoothest opener. I’m usually better at this.” He paused, glancing at my empty glass before looking back at me. “Thanks for not throwing your drink in my face. Would’ve deserved it, but still… thanks, Valerie.”

“We all say stupid things sometimes,” I replied, keeping my voice light as I watched for any sudden changes. “But why introduce yourself that way? Do you say that to everyone else, or did you think that was my type?”

He snorted under his breath. “I... don't know, to be honest. It felt like it needed to be forced out. Like a sneeze you can’t stop. Terrible timing.” His eyes held mine, sharper now. “But we’re past it.” He leaned in slightly. “What are you thinking about right now? I’d like a second shot at not sounding like an idiot.”

I let my fingers rest around the stem of my glass. “That other woman you were talking with, the one in the black-and-white dress. She looked like she was having a good time with you. What changed?”

“Cha-” He cut himself off with a low chuckle. “Force of habit, and not the right time.”

Cha-. A name, maybe. Or the beginning of something he had caught himself saying too often.

I reached with my energy, that quiet hum beneath my ribs that never quite settled. It didn’t let me read minds or move objects, but it leaned. Pushed small things my way. A door left unlocked. A glance held a second too long. A gut feeling that proved right. I brushed the room like a hand over silk, feeling for anything that tugged back. Server pouring water. A couple laughing too loud. The empty table Hollywood had left. Nothing twisted. No trace of a warp. Nothing that explained him.

“You have a certain pull,” he said. “Like you belong under a spotlight, whether you want one or not.”

“And what does that feel like?”

“The jury is still out on that,” he shot back. “But you’re not the only one who can attract attention.”

My pulse flickered. Looking at him now, really looking, the dangerous warper routine fell away. He was just an awkward kid trying too hard. I caught myself leaning in before pulling back.

Across the room, Coat Guy’s thumb had gone still against the rim of his glass. He had caught Becca’s attention and was chatting with her, though his eyes still cut back to me now and then. The ballad from the stage washed over us, piano and voice weaving something melancholy. I let it steady my breathing, not to relax but to stay loose. Stay ready.

Katherine’s voice crackled in my ear. “Sensors are in, but there’s too much noise.” Noise. Either the room was alive with interference, or someone wanted Katherine blind.

“Keep an eye on our two suspects,” Ryan said over comms.

I didn’t react. Didn’t touch my ear. Just held Hollywood’s gaze and waited.

Poking at the wilted remains of his salad, he let out a low chuckle. “Are your friends coming back? I saw you come in with them.”

I kept my face still. “They're not coming back. Don’t worry about them.” I smiled, easy. “It's just you and me now. Two people in a fancy restaurant, having a normal conversation.”

“Normal.” He chuckled, but his eyes held mine a beat too long. “You’re alright with normal?”

There. “I like to start normal. It gives me a good baseline before I figure out who I'm dealing with.”

He leaned back slightly, studying me. “Interesting. You’re… different from what I expected.”

“I could say the same about you.” Different. Right. The accent slip. The half-syllable. The way he had homed in on normal. As much as I wanted to bring him in for questioning, I needed Katherine to find the proof. For now, I can keep him talking.

His smile lingered, then softened, becoming wistful. “I forgot how this felt,” he murmured. It took me half a beat to realize he wasn’t talking to me.

I raised an eyebrow. “What did you forget?”

Before he could answer, the conversation around our table thinned. Forks still scraped plates, and voices still moved through the dining room, but Palate seemed to pull away from me. Its sounds grew distant and flat as Hollywood filled more of my attention than he should have.

His teeth in that grin. His fingers drumming the table. His eyes never leaving me.

My energy tightened beneath my ribs, as though the room were trying to draw me into a smaller, sharper frame.

I forced myself to glance around. Ryan was still near the stage. Carmen was still at the bar. They weren’t looking my way.

Then, just as suddenly, the sound rushed back in, forks, laughter, the clink of glasses, as if Palate had exhaled.

I touched my earring, passing it off as tucking back my hair, and murmured, “Ryan. You feeling that?”

Nothing. Either the comms were down, or he wasn’t answering yet. I was on my own.

“So, Val… want to start over? This conversation?”

I glanced at Hollywood. “I think we’re doing fine already.” I idly tilted the empty glass in my hand.

He opened his mouth, and for a moment, nothing came out. Then-
“Change.”

I was going to tell him that I was fine with continuing-

“Actually, yes, maybe we should.”

I frowned. That wasn’t what I’d meant to say, especially as Hollywood’s smirk stretched a touch more. Yet the thought easily settled into place. I had been too casual with a suspect. If Hollywood could warp reality, I needed him to show it, not just unsettle me with a conversation.

Still, the talk was nice.

Too nice.

I looked down at my hand and froze.

The glass was no longer empty. Cold water swirled inside it as I tilted it. I remembered the last swallow. Warm, flat, and gone before Hollywood had thanked me for not throwing it at him.

I finished that drink.
Didn’t I?