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In Which There Is Actualfax Magic

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Z doesn't know at the time to consider connecting the whole thing with the smoke alarm going off and the cake burning to Tenn and Charlotte being witches and therefore, maybe, possibly, not the best with technology. But, then, even then, when she's only known them for hours, it's obvious that it's much more that they - and Z, too, if she's being honest - are plain old flakes. Or at least easily distractable. Really easily distactable. Particularly when the subject is music.

Or clothes.

Or photography.

Or some combination of the above.

So, getting distracted from baking a cake by planning an impromptu photoshoot of them rocking out? Yeah. That would be them. To a T. And a C. And a Z.

And breaking out the wine and rocking out some more. Like, ten hours more, even, after the smoke had cleared? That would also be them. Like, totally.

And that last bit? Would be the empty bottles of wine talking. Because Z is only that Valley Girl for the express purpose of being ironic. Or fucking with people. Or being ironic while fucking with people. Except when she's so drunk she's playing guitar on her back on the floor.

And then all bets are off.

Seriously. If the wine glass levitating in front of Tennessee's kit isn't also the wine's fault - which it definitely could be; Z's seen stranger under the influence, for sure - then. Well. Z's gonna have to call it magic. Which would be totally rad, because, yes, Z is exactly that much of a dork that she's always secretly believed in magic. And, if the wine glass were actually floating, that would make it the smartest dorky belief she's ever had.

Aside from believing in the sanctity of the perfectly placed comma.

She's maybe about to stop playing and explain her revelation to the others when Charlotte, who is also flopped on the floor, clutching her bass, breaks off in the middle of a chord change and says, urgently, and maybe a little pissily, "Tenn. Tennessee. Focus."

And then the wine glass wobbles in mid-air and disappears at the same time that Tennessee quits playing, apparently for the express purpose of giving her sticks a betrayed look. And, just, seriously. What. The. Fuck. Z does not think she's THAT drunk.

But maybe she ish. Is. Because she just does not get what Tennessee's sticks have to do with anything. Or why Charlotte is giving her this look like she's just waiting for Z to . . . say something? Or figure something out and say something?

Like . . . that the floating wineglass was real?

That first revelation has one related to her attached: she's supposed to have a problem with it. Because it actually was magic.

And the fourth makes her head spin (more than the wine was already doing): Tennessee made it happen.

And then they drop into her head in series: Tennessee isn't supposed to accidentally do magic in front of . . . people.

Like Z.

Who can't.

Do magic.

And Charlotte thinks that's going to maker Z upset.

When Z's just so excited that all she can say is, "Really? No, seriously, really, really, really?" And smile drunkenly at Tennessee and her apparently magical sticks. Because this? Is a revelation that makes life EVEN MORE AWESOME.

Which is apparently at least enough to make Tenn stop looking betrayed and Charlotte stop looking worried and start looking cautiously optimistic and ask, disbelieving, "You don't think it's weird?"

Which makes Z roll her eyes, because, seriously, "Of course it's weird - that's why it's awesome." Do they not know her, AT ALL? Which, okay, they don't, really, but Z would like to think she makes it obvious that she's not the sort of person to freak out in the bad way about this sort of thing. Being, y'know, a bit weird herself.

Make that more than a bit.

Which thought comes with a sudden lapful of Tennessee, who's saying, confidingly, "Drumming's the only thing I'm really good at, sober." While Charlotte snickers and says, reprovingly, "Tenn. Tenn, seriously." And Z knows, suddenly, that she has an actual band. A wonderful, magical band. Oh, boy, does she.