<strong>A Large estate, somewhere east of New York City</strong><br/><br/>It was all a bit overwhelming, especially for one of Harold (Harry) Fine’s rather odd ability.  Less than a month ago he was playing the part of a blind grifter, begging for money and robbing the unwary… robbing them blind, as they say.  Harry had been blinded when he was a just a young boy – he didn’t know how old he was then and didn’t know how old he was now.  His face was mostly a mass of scars, especially where his eyes used to be.  He had thought he was alone in the world, had thought he was little more than a disfigured monster, shunned by all.<br/><br/>Now he found himself in the richly appointed drawing room of some wealthy New York financial aristocrat.  He could tell the room was finely decorated without even the use of his unique senses.  He could smell the rich leather and linens, the fine scent of expensive cigars.  He could hear the distant bustle of servants and maids through the thick walls.  In the room with him were the master of the house and his wife, William and Katherine Bronski, lately arrived by coach from the train station.  He had met them late one night while looking for a mark.  They had intentionally interrupted him, letting his quarry escape.  He knew, or should have known, that there was something different about these two – the moment he so much as turned his anger toward them, intending violence, the woman threw him against a brick wall.  She had been standing a good ten or more paces away from him and had seemingly thrown him with a simple glancing gesture of her eyes.  Then they claimed they needed his help – wanted to make a deal.  It had been tricky negotiations, neither party trusting the other, despite the fact that two of the three were psychics.  But Harry was more than just a ‘pure’ psychic, as Washington Hale would term William Bronski.  Harry could move things with his mind, like Mrs. Bronski.  He could do what both of them could do, but he was no where near as strong as either of them.  They had offered him a deal, a deal the horribly disfigured man could not refuse.  He still didn’t trust them completely, both men were adept at hiding their thoughts from the other.  But in the intervening days, Harry had gleaned enough information from Katherine Bronski that he began to hope.  Supposedly, they were to introduce him to a man who could heal his face and allow him to walk in public without having to hide behind a mask and hood.  In return, he had to give up his life of crime and do them one small favor.<br/><br/>This morning, the manor house had come alive.  Servants of every stripe were scurrying all over the place, guests were arriving un-announced and preparations for some fancy lunch or dinner were well underway when William and Katherine had returned in a slightly flustered rush, themselves.  Now they had gathered up their guest, Harry, and made ready to present him in the drawing room.  Harry could feel the new arrivals before he could hear their footsteps out in the hall.  He stepped back and forth, side to side, intensely nervous.  It was Katherine who laid a gentle hand on his arm, “It’s all right.”  Her voice was soothing and her mind showed no hint of a lie.<br/><br/>The newcomer’s footsteps rounded the doorway and William made introductions, “Mr. Harold Fine, I’d like you to meet Mr. Washington Hale and miss Emmaline Place.”  Harry could feel the man’s own sense of strength and power and vigor… and something more.  The man simply reveled in living life!  And next to him was a kindred spirit, an expansive young soul shining out of a tiny little body.  They were two-of-a-kind, despite the tremendous disparity of physical size and color of skin.  Such physical characteristics had never meant much to Harry, and here was evidence as to why, such ephemeral things did not matter in the long and short of life.  Hesitantly, he held out his hand, “Pleased to ah… meet you, Mr. Hale.”<br/><br/>“And you as well,” said the giant, consuming Harry’s hand in his own.  No one had ever shaken Harry’s hand before.<br/><br/>Harry, sensitive that he was, gleaned from Hale’s mind, and from a subtle directing of his hand as they let go their grip, that he should also shake Emma’s hand.  “Pleased to meet you, miss Place,” Harry said, taking Emma’s hand rather awkwardly.  Her hand felt strangely cold and oddly soft for an instant, until Harry realized, seeing through Katherine’s eyes for a moment and reading her thoughts, that the young Emma was wearing silk gloves that were obscenely expensive.<br/><br/>“And you, sir,” she said echoing her giant companion and attempting a curtsey.  Her voice was filled with happiness and Harry could feel it in her thoughts.  It made him smile, until the pain of his tortured cheeks made him stop.<br/><br/>“Shall we begin?” asked Hale.<br/><br/>“Wha… here?  Now?” said William.<br/><br/>“Yes, why not?  You’ve made the deal already, yes?”<br/><br/>Bill Bronski had to admire the efficiency of the man, “No time like the present,” he said.  “Are you ready Mr. Fine?”<br/><br/>Harry nodded.  All five people in the room had something special about them, he realized.  ‘What were the odds of that?’ he wondered as he pushed his hood back.  His long, curly, graying hair bounced up comically.  Then he removed his mask.  To Harry, it was as if some one had turned out the lights.  Suddenly everyone in the room sought to hide their thoughts and discomfort.  Only Hale looked at the man closely.  Harry caught a glimpse of an image in the man’s mind.  The giant had seen, and experienced, far worse.<br/><br/>From Emma he felt intense sympathy and sadness.  He hated that more than the quickly hidden disgust of Mr. and Mrs. Bronski.  Then Washington Hale touched his face.<br/><br/>Instantly, all the pain was gone!  Harry hadn’t even realized how much pain he had learned to ignore.  His melted skin tingled and prickled, moved and twitched and tickled.  His face felt hot and cold all at once.  His nose cracked once as it grew back.  His mangled lips drew up and formed themselves into a small, narrow and thin-lipped, but otherwise perfectly formed mouth.  Hale’s huge fingers lingered over Harry’s eyes.  After only a short while, these strange sensations were so uncomfortable that it was Harry who pulled back, breaking the contact.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry,” Hale said in a quiet, deep voice.  “I cannot regrow your eyes.  I have an idea, but it will take some preparation…”  Harry was no longer listening to the man.  Through the eyes of those in the room, he could see himself.  And for the first time, no one turned away in fear or revulsion.  Slowly, tentatively, he explored his face with his fingertips.  Had his eyelids only been able to open, he would have cried openly.  As it was he was so chocked up that he literally did choke.  He sniffled and blubbered unintelligibly and cupped his new, smooth face with his rough hands.  In between coughing fits and ragged gasps for breath, long, agonized moans and the wails of years of pent up pain escaped him and he slumped into a chair.