Meeting Savannah (3 word Wednesday - ideal, measure, teeter)

A clean cut man in a suit enters the room holding the handle of the metal door to have it latch as silently as possible. He peers about the room, which appears to be an odd hybrid of a college dormitory and a prisoner interrogation room, complete with one-way glass. A small television is silently facing a worn couch. On a card table in the center of the room is an incomplete pyramid of upside-down porcelain teacups. A young woman in the middle of her teen years slouches in a folding chair while staring intently at the pyramid. He can only see the back of her long straight bright red mane as the door closes. He starts to speak but pauses upon noticing a teacup suspended in mid-air is about to be placed onto the sixth level of the pyramid. His palms swell with sweat in a nervous silence until the subtle chalky scratching sound of porcelain’s friction on porcelain ceases.

“Ahem…”, he chortles, “Miss? Miss Savannah Rogers?”

“Yea”, she speaks in a bothered tone only a teenager can master.

“Pleasure to meet you Miss Rogers. My name is Brian Hunt, Federal Bureau of Investigation”. He steps to an angle he can see her face. Indifferent to her visitor, she focuses upon another teacup not currently resting on the fragile structure. The teacup gently levitates.

“Brian Hunt. How generic. That’s your REAL name? Or am I not supposed to know that.”

“Do you have a nickname? Can I call you Vannah? Maybe Savie…”

“It’s Savannah. That’s my name and that’s what I’m called. Can I use Brian Hunt or do you prefer asshole?”, Savannah visually measures the height of the suspended teacup.

“A sense of humor, I see”, Brian scratches his head. He has not had much experience negotiating with teenagers, much less telekinetic teenagers.

“No. I was serious. You look more like an asshole than a Brian.”

He frowns, opting to ignore her statement. “So Miss Rogers…”

“Savannah”.

“Savannah, sorry, I’ve been sent to you today because my superiors have taken great interest in your remarkable abilities. We think you would eventually be a great asset to the United States if you were to work with us… of course you are a little young now, but your future could be very promising. How old did you say you were?”

“I didn’t”, Savannah hisses, “…but, I’m sixteen”.

“Yes, a couple years still, but you could really be a…”

“Be a what, a puppet to all you suits? Wouldn’t that just be ideal. What makes you think I’d want that? All you stuffshirts can’t think for yourselves...”.

Brian looks down, he had anticipated her resilience. He has successfully interrogated small time criminals and diabolical terrorists alike, yet he cannot work an angle with a high school sophomore. Time to change his tune. He pats his holster under his suitcoat, “What if I told you, you have no choice in the matter?”

She looks at him for the first time. Her split concentration places the hovering teacup onto the pyramid in an unstable position, and the weight shift causes the porcelain structure to teeter. She raises a thin and well trimmed eyebrow, “Are you threatening me?”

“We like to call it forceful negotiation”, Brian smirks in victory of earning her attention. “I’ve cracked eggs a lot harder than you Miss Ro…”

A shattering sound of the most recently placed teacup breaks his pitch. Shards fly about the room, none hitting either person. Savannah grins, “I could do that to your skull before you got that gun out of your coat”.

“Really”

“Try me”

“I’m a pretty fast shot”

Savannah curls her lip and ruses, “What’s that called when you target practice those thingies that get launched in the air?”

“You mean skeet shooting?”

“Yeah that. Are you good at that?”

“Well I don’t mean to brag but I scored highest in my… HEY!” A teacup-turned-projectile from the top of the pyramid smashes on the wall behind Brian. Savannah chuckles, and sends another projectile from her pile of ammunition. The cup soars with the speed of a major league fast ball, Brian nearly ducks in time. “What the... HEY... stop it!”

SMASH. SMASH, SMASH. SMASH. Brian retreats to the door, with his suit coat pulled over his head. “We’ll talk again later Savannah”, he shouts over the sound of the breaking teacups, then hastily takes his leave.

The room is again silent.

“Later, asshole”.