I nearly spit out my drink, furrowing my brows at the well-tailored, well-fed man who held a gun to my head. Welp, the jig was up.

”...Precognition.” he finished saying.

My hand trembled and my body shook slightly at the incoming joke. Hot tea spilt onto his shoes and the couch, missing my legs in the fall.

Clearing my throat, I said, ”I’m sorry?”

”Oh, these are waterproof, sir. You don't have...