Breakfast Realizations

"Buh-buh-buh," I stuttered, pushing myself from the table a tad, "A-Abigail, what are you doing?"

She looked at me, hair falling back into place as she took her shirt over her head and placed it on the table by her food. "My boobie action was in seriously low supply, sorry. Hope you don't mind."

"I..."

Sister of mine returned her attention to her phone, bringing it up to her face with a giggle.

Not showing a single ounce of worry at her current attire, as goosebumps rose against her skin, or the way she had just... 'explained' it.

I swallowed. Her chest was a pretty solid D-cup too. Good enough to grab a handful of.

Shaking my head again, I looked away.

It happened. It happened just like it did with the eggs.

I had thought, inside, without actually saying it, the words, "I should take off my shirt. It's not showing enough boobie action." knowing fully well and confidently that such a string of crud-iculous words would never be seen together in such a formation out of Abigail's lips unless she was getting paid for it onstage or something.

And she said them. Ad verbatim.

Not like some robot, either.

Like she actually meant it.

Plant your words, I mulled. So that's what it meant. Although...

Could I do more than just make people do things through self-initiated speech? Could I plant thoughts in a more broad sense, too? Wouldn't that still be considered 'planting'?

I took a breath, feeling the throb in my head reemerge. Once again, that feeling, of equal parts power and pain -- neither, at least 50% unfortunately, quite going away. My vision briefly blurred, and I felt a slight wave of tiredness wash over me despite the fact I'd just woken up minutes earlier.

It was probably the side effects of this 'power', no question. But the cat's curiosity was redeemed by satisfaction. So satisfaction I seized.

I took another breath and refocused on the brassiere-exposing girl across the table. The one I had known all my life. That had never wittingly said the words "boobie action" without devolving into a pool of laughs ever before.

And I thought. Like a stalk being planted into another block of dirt.

Raise your arm. I pointed my eyes at Abigail with intangible daggers. It looked like I was maddogging her, but I'm sure she would have understood, if she knew the breakthrough going on in my effing brain right now.

Just like that, still smiling at her phone screen, she giggled and threw an arm up. "Oh my god," she placed the back of her other hand, the one with the phone, against her mouth, now in full laughing mode. "That's funny."

Drop your phone. Still laughing, her hand unclasped the phone from its grasp and it hit the chair. With a crackly thud it ricocheted onto the floor. She gasped.

"My phone! Crap!"

Abigail dived under the table to pick it up, a slightly frustrated look glinting her eyes once she sat back up, as if she was wondering why she had dropped it.

So, sometimes, they actually can see it as they normally would, doing things out of character or control.

Interesting.

Could I dictate which was which when I wanted to?

I looked at her, thinking again, but this time with a deliberate flavor of rationalization laced into the seeds.

Drop your phone. I sat and waited, but didn't have to wait for long.

Promptly, Abigail scoffed, stood up, and dropped her phone straight to the floor. "Serves the thing right," she rolled her eyes and walked off, her phone laying on the floor.

"Holy crap," my lips mumbled out. "Without a hitch."

Her shirt was still on the table. I hesitated. School would be starting soon, but... well, if I was feeling up for some more 'experimentation', maybe I could've shed a few minutes of punctuality for the day. Besides; with this newfound power, I somehow felt like I was quite the persuasive character.