Can there be one day where Phoebe and Reagan don't try to kill each other?
"Calm down, guys," I said as I stepped in between them.
Phoebe glared at me. "Calm down?" she repeated angrily. "Reagan started it! He just knocked my nail polish out of my hands for no reason!"
"You were the one who put us all in danger! You threatened to use my power, and for what? For nail polish?"
I made a mental catalogue of everything that went inside the Toybox, my little pocket dimension of awesomeness, for anything that might help in this situation. Either I had nothing, or I forgot I had it, so I decided to use my second great superpower : lying.
"Guys," I interrupted. "I have a pair of handcuffs in the Toybox, and no key. Don't make me use them."
Both of them looked at me doubtfully, but decided not to chance it. Phoebe broke away with an exasperated sigh and Reagan shook his head. Eventually he walked away too, so I was left standing there with a bunch of bottles of nail polish at my feet.
I picked one up, and put it in the Toybox. I still can't explain what it feels like, but I did pick up a few rules of my power. For example, I know that if I'm touching whatever it is I want to put into the Toybox, that makes it a lot easier.
The bottles phased through my hand, which I always likened to the Martian Manhunter phasing through a wall, but instead of coming out the other side of the wall and punching a bad guy, the bottle just popped into the Toybox, ready for retrieval later.
After I did that to the other bottles, and after concluding that Reagan probably didn't want me around, I walked over to Phoebe and sat down beside her.
"You okay?" I asked. She hadn't been here long, not as long as me, and definitely not as long as Reagan, and she was having a hard time getting used to it.
"I'm fine," Phoebe said, trying not to meet my eyes. "It's just that," she paused for a while, hesitating. "I miss my parents and my friends. I miss being able to go out for a movie whenever I wanted. I miss my life." I saw tears well up in her eyes, and one of them rolled down her cheek.
"Hey, don't worry," I comforted. "This is going to sound like every bad piece of advice you've ever heard, but you'll get used to it. Not now, not tomorrow, but soon. The only thing you can do is wait."
"Thanks, James," she said as she sniffed.
"Besides, look at me," I continued. "I've been here three years and not once did I ask for nail polish."
She grinned, then laughed when she couldn't hold it back any longer. "Why is it that you can say some of the most sensitive things and ruin it all with a joke at the end?" she asked, still smiling.
"I have the mind of an intelligent and sensitive man, and the soul of a clown who just has to mess it up," I told her. "Jim Morrison said that."
I sighed. "Never mind."