Lucky you. I had this aunt used to make cranberry orange muffins every weekend for church from October to February. My mama made me eat one every goddamn time, 'stead of the good shit other people brought.

[ She comes from a very large family from a very small town, where church was considered the most respectable place one could be seen. Eating the muffins was not a choice, it was an order designed to prove that they weren't the most white trash, heathen branch of the family. Just close to it.

Julie is... actually not exactly sure of how he will process her power. Having an invisible third hand isn't as impressive when the person can't see your first two hands to begin with. She doesn't say anything, just takes a sip from her mug, but Matt can most likely tell she hasn't moved an inch.

Certainly not enough to put a hand flat on his back between his shoulder blades. Which is where a definitively human hand gives him a congenial pat. ]