It's a nice house.

That's all I can really say about it as our vehicle pulls up in front of its driveway, gravel creaking underneath its tires. Their house is two stories tall, with a coat of light blue paint, with dark shingles on its shallow roof. The Mother twists around in her seat, careful not to mess her hair up, and tells me sternly, "Now, Jason-"

I know what I'm supposed to say here. "No inst-insul-"

She smiles, booping me on the nose. "Exactly. Are you nervous?"

I snort scornfully. "Why would I be nervous?"

Raising an eyebrow, the Mother asks, "Because you're meeting Charlie's family and they might not be as nice as she is?"

My forehead scrunches in thought. "Now I'm nervous."

She laughs gently. "Sorry. I guess I'm nervous too." We both wait for a moment, and she asks, "Are you ready?"

I nod. "Of course."

Getting out of her side, she turns to my side and slides the door open, allowing me to extricate myself from the complex tangle of buckles and straps securing me in my seat.

It's only a matter of seconds before we're standing at the door, the Mother rapping its wooden surface loudly. A few moments later, it's opened by a painfully thin man dressed in a gray dress shirt and black pants. His hair is perfectly styled, and his chiseled features are off-set by the glinting green eyes sunken into his face. It's an overall intimidating presence he's giving off, but I am unaffected. I've died before, after all.

He smiles at the Mother, his face breaking into a surprisingly genuine expression. "Ah! I take it that you're miss Anna Barret? It's good to meet you."

She smiles back at him, giving her greetings as well. Craning my head past them, I unsuccessfully look for Charlie, wondering where she is. The man gets down on one knee, addressing me. "And you must be Argus. Charlie's told us a lot about you."

The Mother raises an eyebrow quizzically. "Argus?"

I quickly interject before she can speak further. "It's a name I like a lot. I'm Jason."

He nods thoughtfully. "Ah, that does make more sense. It's not a common name, but it's a good one." Standing, he gestures towards his house, opening the door wider. "Please, come in. We've got dinner all ready - you're right on time."

Dinner sounds - and smells - quite good right now, actually. There's a rather empty feeling in my stomach.

Wandering in, I ignore the Mother and the Man speaking to each other casually, instead opting to search for Charlie. I find her in a homey kitchen, carrying a glass pan of something that is cheesy and delicious. I almost call out her name, walking over, before noticing something.

There's something a little... off... about the air, but I can't quite pick up on it.

Looking up from her pan, Charlie sees me and beams. "Argus! You're here!" Setting the pan down among a variety of other excellent-smelling foods, she walks over to me and gives me a hug. "I'm so glad you could come! I couldn't wait."

I smile back at her distractedly. What is it? It's almost familiar, but at the same time utterly alien. I'm not sure how to describe it even to myself.

Shaking it away, I decide to ignore it. If I can't figure out what it is, there's no point in wasting energy thinking about it. I smile once again at Charlie, and this time it's genuine. "I was excited too. When are we eating?"

Turning to the kitchen, Charlie calls, "Mom? When are we having dinner?"

A thin middle-aged woman wearing a white apron turns to us, dusting her hands off and taking the apron off. "Whenever is fine." She sees me and flinches as she makes eye contact, then relaxes. "You must be Argus! It's so nice to meet you - Charlie speaks very highly of you."

I nod pleasantly. I can see how Charlie's vocabulary is so well-developed. Most of the adults I've seen speak to their children as if their brains are made of mush. Charlie's parents do no such thing, and it's quite refreshing to be spoken to like everyone else.

As the Mother and the Man filter in, still amiably chatting with each other, Charlie and I take our seats at the short table. I can count six places, but there are only five people here. "Is someone else here?"

Mom (or Mommy, I suppose) sighs. "Yes, there is. Just a moment, please."

Walking just outside the kitchen, she shouts up the stairs, "Dillon! Come downstairs for dinner!"

A moment later, I hear a reply. "Mom, I'm busy!"

She rolls her eyes, then glances at me and the Mother apologetically. "Sorry. He's a bit antisocial." Returning her attention to the stairs, she yells again. "Dillon! We have guests! Come down or I'm unplugging the Wi-Fi again!"

It's only a few seconds later that I hear the mad rush of someone running far too fast, and then tripping. A few painful sounding crashes later, a lanky boy with messy hair and falls down the stairs, ending in a heap at the bottom. Mom jumps back as he does, startled. "Oh my goodness, Dillon! Are you all right?"

Groaning, Dillon rolls over, looking none the worse for wear. Oh, except for the nosebleed. "Uggghhh. Ib my nobe bleebing?"

What?

Mom helps him up to his feet, and he rights the rectangular glass device sitting on the bridge of his nose, bending them back into the correct position and rubbing his backside. Blinking repeatedly, he rubs at his eye, then sees me.

All at once, he recoils, jumps, and lands flat on his rump once again. "What the-"

Mom less-than-gently hits him in the shoulder. "Dillon! We talked about this!"

He looks up in a mild panic. "But his eyes are-"

"DILLON!"

Well. This should be an interesting dinner, if nothing else.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I'm perfectly happy to chew on the absolutely phenomenal cheese and noodles concoction in silence, but the adults clearly have other plans.

"So, you're an accountant?"

The Mother, her fork spearing a slice of ham, laughs at the question. Charlie is carefully examining a suspicious-looking piece of asparagus, and Dillon has his arms folded grumpily, staring at his full plate. Of course Mom and the Man are talking quite happily with each other, conversing with the Mother.

Chuckling, she answers, "Yes, I work at Kelvin Imports - they're remarkably understanding about having a kid who's as much of a handful as Jason here."

The Man laughs in response. "Yes, I can imagine. Charlie can get into quite the mischief sometimes, but she's so worth it."

Indicating Dillon with her fork, the Mother asks, "What do you do?"

Mom sighs. "Oh, Dillon. He's a part-time cashier at a GameAway."

I don't know what that is, but the Mother's face stutters slightly. "R-really?"

Dillon looks up with an irritated expression. "It's my job, it's not my chosen profession. I was born to theorize!"

Well, I'm interested, but no one else seems to be. The Man says with some heat, "That's not a career, Dillon! You can't live your life making up nonsense!"

Dillon points at him, clearly angry. "Okay, look - my theory that we're all side characters in a webnovel has merit, all right? I just need a few more details."

Mom snorts loudly, contrasting her fancy outfit. "What you need is a degree and a job. It's not that he's not smart," She explains to the Mother. "He's plenty smart. We've seen his videos, after all. The problem is that he doesn't apply that intelligence. What's your current theory, again? Something about magic being real?"

My head snaps up. This is the first bit of information I've heard regarding other magic, and therefore is incredibly important.

Dillon seems to agree. "Oh, come on! There is so much evidence for that! And are we not even going to talk about him?" He ends the sentence while jerking his thumb in my direction, and I raise an eyebrow.

The Mother seems more than a little irritated. "Nothing is wrong with Jason!"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, yeah, sure. It's not as though he talks in full sentences-"

"Dillon," Mom says in a warning tone.

"-or seems to think he's better than everyone-"

"Dillon!" The Man speaks this time, his voice angry.

"-but of course I'm the one who's the freak! I have normal eyes, unlike Mr. Crawl-out-of-the-TV here!"

Mom slams her hands on the table. "DILLON! That's far enough!"

He throws his hands in the air. "No, it's not! It's never far enough! You act like Charlie is the best thing to happen to humanity since the invention of the wheel, while I'm the guy who's the useless cashier!"

The Man points at him. "You could be more than a cashier if you settled down and found a proper interest!"

The doorbell rings and everyone is quiet for a moment, glaring at each other. Coldly, Dillon says, "I'll get it. It's probably the guy who's picking up my laptop. Go back to your perfect dinner. It'll be better without me in it, just like everything else."

Standing, he heads for the front door. No one stands to stop him.

Mom turns to the Mother apologetically. "I am so sorry. I had no idea he'd act like this."

The Man snorts loudly. "Well, I don't know about that. This seems pretty normal to me."

"Carl." Mom only says the one word, but he shuts up. Hm. I may need to do some research.

The Mother sighs sadly. "It's okay. Argus is probably going to have to get used to people bringing up his aniridia - Dillon was just a little blunter about it than most."

While they're talking, I detect a hint of that strange familiarity again, just as Dillon opens the front door, and my entire body tenses.

Someone here possesses magic.