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Book of Mirrors.
“That’s right. Any mirror - as long as you can hold it in your mind, you’re there.”
Kyu laid the leather-bound book out on the shoddy plastic tabletop and tapped its cracked cover knowingly. Culain looked less than impressed.
“Think about that. -Any- mirror. You find yourself thinking about that gorgeous babe you went home with last night. You think about the mirror on the vanity in her bedroom. Open this book up, hold that vanity in your mind - and you’re there.”
Culain scowled and pushed his fork through the weepy fried eggs on his plate. Lunch with the Fox could never be an easy thing. It always had to be about his newest toy, his newest conquest. Kyu loved telling stories, and more often than not they’d be about how perfectly excellent -he- was.
“I guess this is where I say you ought to respect other peoples’ privacy,” he grunted. “Then you laugh, and I grumble about it for a while.”
“Have I become predictable?” Kyu asked with feigned disappointment. “Maybe this time I’ll say - you’re right, old chum. I shall never touch this delicious Book again. Fox’s honor.”
Culain merely scowled down on his mediocre brunch and fished a soggy fried potato out of the yellow soup of his egg yolk.