“Tech support,” Wyllt said in a crisp, professional tone. He settled both hands on his keyboard and began typing rapidly. Beside his mousepad, his cup of tea continued steaming. A muttered syllable and a flash of gold in Wyllt’s eyes and his teaspoon resumed stirring for him. “Have you closed all the other windows, madam?” Then he paused, sighed, and said, “No, madam, not the windows in the house - the windows on your computer screen. Yes, the frame-thingies.”
In the corner, Ambrose was curled up on his favorite over-stuffed chair, a human skull balanced on one knee, his grimoire balanced on the other. A chalk circle was inscribed on the hardwood floor around him while he attempted to animate the skull Lost Unicorn style.
“All right, is your computer successfully rebooted?” Wyllt asked. He cast a glance at his teacup, and the teaspoon vanished in a puff of smoke. Moments later, it clattered into the sink in the kitchen down the hall. He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved another aggrieved sigh. “Madam, unplugging and then replugging your computer is not the definition of ‘reboot’. Look - do you have an internet connection? Once your computer is on again, you’ll need to open up the internet - yes, the blue and yellow e-shaped button in the bottom right corner of the screen - and I can take over remotely. Yes, from where I’m sitting. Yes, I’ll hold, Madam.”
“You know,” Ambrose said, “any self-respecting wizard would have made that computer explode by now, what with all the magic you’ve been using. And he wouldn’t know the definition of ‘reboot’ either.”
Wyllt sipped some of his tea. “Who said I was self-respecting? I do tech support.” He set his tea down hastily. “Yes, Madam, I’m still here.”
(300 words)
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