Law closes his eyes and concentrates, letting himself become a background as he takes in the environment; every item in the house and its placement in relation to all the others. He can sense items farther away – outside – as well, but only dimly and uncertainly.
He never feels more alive, more in-control, than when he taps into his powers; especially since they're his secret. No one knows about his powers, not even Lucci, who otherwise knows everything about him. His parents never noticed; he didn't start having control of them until after, when they wouldn't have realised it was out of the ordinary if he used them right in front of them (which was fortunate, as he sometimes had no choice). He hadn't mentioned them to the social services after their death, and certainly not to his aunt and uncle. They're a secret, and he intends to keep them that way.
He twitches a finger to open the cupboard he can't reach, and another to move the tea bag tin down to the counter. He can't imagine what being in a wheelchair is like without the advantage he has; he can get between floors if he needs to, though he's only done so a few times for fear he'll be found out. He doesn't want to be a nuisance, but he can't let anyone discover his secret.
He moves the sugar bowl down to the counter with a swipe of his thumb and goes through the familiar motions of making tea; pouring water into the mug, adding a tea bag, letting it steep, removing the bag, adding sugar. A bit more sugar than he normally takes, but he figures he might as well indulge since he can't have more than one cup. Shanks keeps worrying about his weight, anyway. He doesn't get why it's such a big deal; he's not underweight and his weight gain is steady and normal for how far along he is. It's not as if he isn't eating, but telling Shanks there's nothing to worry about unless he stops eating would be counter-productive and all in all a really bad idea.
He sighs as he returns the tea bag tin and sugar bowl to the cabinet and closes the door. He's exhausted. He always wanted to be free, but what do you do once you are? All his dreams and plans were about getting away; he never thought much beyond that.
He wanted to be a surgeon when he was a child because he thought surgeons fixed people. Made them right. Waved a wand and made all the bad things disappear. But reality is very, very different from what he used to imagine.
People can't be fixed. There's no such thing as magic.
