Bad Credits again? Not Likely!

The smell of burnt wood slowly wafted through the air as they both stared at Mischa's open hand that he was still holding, unmoving, above the table. Abigael very cautiously began to move her chair back, trying to put as much distance between her and Mischa as she could without provoking anything.

Afraid to even speak too loudly she half whispered half demanded, 'How did you do that?'

'I-, I don't know.' Mischa replied, his voice just as quiet. His face was even paler than before and he was sitting perfectly still, as if afraid any movement he made could cause another shock.

Abigael frowned whilst slowly backing up towards the kitchen bench. As soon as he made a move she was ready to grab whatever she could and show him that she wasn't someone he could bully! Well, at least she could defend herself, sort of. She didn't know what she would do if he chucked a bolt of electricity in her direction-

Shaking her head vigorously to get rid of distracting, and unrealistic, thoughts she starred in his direction, watching his every move. He wasn't answering her questions, clearly he was hiding something. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Mischa very slowly turned over his hand. There were none of those little static electricity-like bolts running over his fingers anymore, and there was no strange feeling or anything on his hand. Reaching up, he touched the skin on his forehead when the electric bolt had struck out from onto the teaspoon. It didn't feel any different than usual either. Other than a general feeling of weakness and some pain in his whole body he couldn't find anything out of place. The pain probably came from last night when he was-

'The lightning strike.' His blue eyes shone with realisation, 'Maybe it's some kind of side effect after getting struck by lightning?' He started guessing wildly, trying to reassure himself as much as the frightened girl he had dragged into all of this.

Abigael didn't know what to think, to be honest she didn't want to think anymore, she just wanted this guy out of her apartment and out of her life. She had done everything she could okay?

'You- just-, you stay right there. Don't move!' She tried to sound commanding and brave but it was kind of hard to do that when her voice was only coming out in a whisper and her hands were shaking as she reached behind her for something to grab to defend herself.

A hurt expression passed over Mischa's face but was quickly followed by a self-deprecating grimace that showed he understood her fear. He nodded to her to show he meant no harm and very deliberately moved his hands to place them in full view on the table.

A small sigh of relief escaped Abigael's mouth, though her heart was still pounding away from the shock of it all. [I'm going to need a spa day and a good massage after all of this.] She decided, trying to distract herself from her never ending stream of thoughts which were crazily spinning out of control somewhere in her mind. She lowered her hand but was still wary. 'Did you-, did it hurt?' She managed to ask, all thoughts of interrogation disappearing as she said the first thing that came to her mind.

His head tilted slightly as he seemed to be in thought, 'No.' Came the reply in a low voice, as if he was afraid of startling her if he spoke too loudly. 'I am pretty uncomfortable, but not from that- well whatever that was just now. I'm pretty sure it won't happen again… probably.'

[Probably?! You're just as bad as the watch!] She scolded him in her mind as the creases of a frown appeared on her forehead and her eyes squinted in suspicion. 'Uncomfortable?' she questioned.

'Yeah,' he nodded, 'Painful actually.' He moved his hand from the table slowly and started to tear off part of his sleeve, which had burn marks and a gaping hole. Wincing every now and again as he pulled the rag off he eventually revealed a bruising pattern in the shape of something like roots or a fern leaf over the top of bright red, almost blistered skin.

Abigael caught her breath at the sight. She couldn't take her eyes away, it looked so… horrid, yet, somehow rather amazing. She watched, rather stunned, as Mischa began unbuttoning his singed shirt. He was gingerly pulling his arms out of the ruined garment before she realised that she was unashamedly watching a strange man undress in front of her. Her cheeks flushed red and she quickly spun around, blinking rapidly to dispel the lingering images and trying to calm her racing heart.

'AH!' The yell made her jump in fright and she turned just in time to see Mischa standing, the rags of his singed shirt in one hand and a flashing ball of sparks slowly climbing over the fingers of his other hand and up to his wrist. Abigael could see the panic written all over his face as he stared at his hand then looked to her in what could only be a silent plea for help.

For a few seconds she just stood there, looking at the sparks on his arm, at his eyes asking for help, at the burn mark on her kitchen table. Without stopping to think she looked around for something, she didn't even know what she was looking for. Her eyes landed on the drying rack beside the kitchen sink, there was a wooden spoon, a couple plates, the knife she used to cut vegetables and her rubber gloves.

Something clicked in her mind then as she realised, this is the choice! [I'm not getting that 'Bad' rating again, I'll show that stupid watch] She thought to herself determinedly as she deliberately grabbed the rubber gloves.

Holding them for a moment, she wondered if this was really okay? Shouldn't she be grabbing the nearest weapon and shooing this crazy stripping maniac out of her house? Why would she even believe that picking up a pair of rubber gloves would even be helpful in some way? Because the watch told her so? What did a piece of broken technology even know? Shaking her head to clear the thoughts she closed her eyes and threw the gloves at Mischa before she could change her mind.

Mischa dropped his ragged shirt to the ground and grabbed the bright pink rubber gloves, admiring the girl's quick thinking he quickly shoved his electrified hand into the rubber glove then put on the other one for good measure before holding his hands out away from himself as far as he could. Fingers closed into fists and slightly shaking from the strain of trying not to move. Eventually he realised nothing was happening and carefully opened one hand to check.

Nothing, just a bright pink rubber glove.

He collapsed back into the chair, panting slightly. 'Has it stopped?' Abigael's whisper broke the silence. He turned and saw her fear filled yet determined face and couldn't help but smile. In all honesty, she had no reason to help him at all, yet she had, and more than once, without even a word of thanks he suddenly realised.

'Thank you.' he quickly said, hoping it wasn't too little too late and that she wouldn't run screaming from the house, or worse, run at him screaming with that knife she kept sneaking glances at.

'Hm.' She made a noncommittal sound before suddenly leaning back on the kitchen bench behind her and starting to tap on her smartwatch. Shocked at her sudden change in attitude he couldn't help thinking how carefree she seemed. [Surely she knows that this is still a strange and dangerous situation, how can she act like that?] He shook his head in resignation as he watched her smirk proudly at something on her watch display.

He coughed slightly to get her attention, 'Do you- er, do you happen to have a shirt I can borrow by any chance?'