This little snippet is from Las Vegas Circle, in which Thomas is still discovering his powers, and he uses them to get under his bigot bosses’ skin–
“That’s odd,” he said to himself. He gazed down the street toward Frank’s office, and the air around him seemed to—stretch, there was no other word for it. He had no sense of movement, of actually walking the short distance to the sheriff’s office, but—here he was, standing right there. Not just standing out in front of the old weatherbeaten door, but—inside.
Standing right in front of Frank’s desk.
Thomas really tried to keep the look of amusement off his face as he watched Frank glance up from his paperwork and scoot halfway to the hallway leading to the jail cells, apparently forgetting he had received a chair with wheels a few days ago when the train delivered it.
“FUCK!” Frank cursed, trying to slow his breathing. “How did you get in here without me hearing you, damn it?” He used his heels to scoot back to the desk and salvaged as much of his dignity as he could.
“I guess it’s just my inscrutable red man image, Frank,” Thomas answered, laughing. He clasped his hands in front of him, waiting.
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