Stepping onto that bus was the first time Henry had been with more than three other souls in a good six months. For the most part, he liked what being around others did to him and what it let him experience. He could peek into others’ psyches and know them in a way no one else could know strangers. The rush of sensations started in his head and poured through him, collecting in his gut, where it gathered into a painful mass. He’d spent countless hours trying to figure out what that awful sensation was — perhaps something to do with what people had hidden in their subconscious. In the end, it didn’t really matter. He’d handle anguish for a few days and strike off on his own again.

The bar was even more interesting, from his point of view. He was swimming in perceptions. The room was alive and beating. His ability to sense the states of other people’s minds didn’t really have anything to do with being in his sight, so as he talked with George he wandered around the room in his mind’s eye, riding the highs and lows of every conversation around him and making note of everyone in the bar. After a few minutes of that, though, that little cancer inside of him grew to be too much. By the time the beers came, he’d focused on his breathing and pushed as much as he could out.

And so he enjoyed his beer — another first in many months. He was certainly happy to treat himself to something half-decent, but he’d have to switch to something cheaper later, when taste mattered less than alcohol content. He’d been watching the band and wondering what exactly they would play since before George even mentioned anything. He also didn’t really have a clue, but he was pretty down for anything. Live bands weren’t something he was used to.

The theremin was a convenient excuse to down his beer as quickly as possible. Henry had mostly gone into this night expecting to be drinking a lot — he found that there were more of the good parts of his special abilities and less of the bad parts, as long as he stayed in a good mood. It was a significant enough effect that Henry was pretty sure he’d develop some kind of alcohol dependence if he had more access to alcohol. In any case, another half-bottle of beer and ten minutes later, Henry was affected pretty strongly. Barely drinking at all made him quite a lightweight, but he metabolized it quickly, so he didn’t worry.

Henry felt the guy sit down next to George and already got an extremely strange feeling from him. George, a pretty outgoing guy, and almost certainly not a psychic, responded, unaware of any weird vibes. “I haven’t heard of them either.” He turned around to face the same direction the newcomer was. “I kinda doubt they’re locals, unless it’s a brand new group. I’m just as curious to figure out what this is gonna be as you are. It looks like they’re starting the sound check now.”

Maybe it was the beer that made the feeling so strong. Henry had no idea, and he hadn’t even seen the guy yet, but there it was. This guy felt like something new to him. He let curiosity get the better of him and turned around like George had, leaning forward so he could see around George. For a few seconds, he lost his usual control, and stared straight through the guy. It was like he was zoning out in another person’s head, a look of total concentration and at least some hint of suspicion on his face. He snapped out of it, but surely a little too long not to have been noticed. He leaned back in his seat to put George's body back in between his and the newcomer's, wondering to himself, [i]what is that guy?[/i]